Winter's Lark
by haleybob
Summary: A young child is found at the Opera Populaire, back up and running after the fire. But what everyone doesn't know is that the child is a girl! Yes, young Lark is dressed as a boy but why? It's a strange occurence in the Opera. Mix of all I know of Phantom
1. Chapter 1

**Greetings! This is authoress Haleybob! Currently, when I was typing my 52nd chapter of this story, when I noticed that my beginning wasn't as good. Actually, it sucked. So here I am with new updated beginning chapters!! So if you're reading this right now, it means you are reading the updated story of _Winter's Lark_. Again this is Haleybob over and out. I hope you enjoy my story!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything Phantom. (tear)**

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**_Part One:_**

Cold. That's how she felt right now, cold and numb. A girl trudged wearily through the icy snow feeling the wet and cold seep into her boots. Shivering, she drew her thin cloak tighter around her skinny shoulders. Snow was falling heavily right now and the streets were quite bare that evening. Any other night she would have kept going but now…

She would need heat, and soon. Sighing she continued along, turning her face down against the winter wind that blew her short hair away from her eyes, chilling her nose so much she feared it would fall off. Small clinks could be heard from one of her pockets; in it was a small bag containing the little money she carried. She winced as the wind blew her cloak sideways, letting in the frigid air that chased the heat away leaving her colder then when she started.

Her face fell as she remembered the last inn she visited, with a nice warm fire going, people chatting, it seemed like an inn she'd want to stay in, though the innkeeper clearly stated that they where filled to the brim with people. She didn't blame him; she herself could plainly see that the inn was too full to squeeze in a single child. As the last four inns the girl stopped by too. Furiously rubbing her hands together for warmth, she could only walk on and see where her feet would take her. She was used to walking around, Mama and the rest had too before…

'No,' she told herself, 'Mama and the rest are gone. Stop thinking of them, you'll only make yourself cry again.' She knew she was just kidding herself, she already had a few tears in her eyes, who could forget Mama? How could she forget her family? Brushing the tears aside she straightened her pants and shirt, how other boys could handle these clothes she didn't know, but they were the only thing she had to wear. It also came handy for a disguise, just in case someone tried to find her…

Glancing up slightly, the girl noticed that her feet had taken her in front of the Opera Populaire. Craning her neck, she could barely see the top. Teeth chattering she entered the doors, stomping her feet to get some of the snow out and looked around. She was amazed at how little was damaged since two years ago when a large fire put the Opera Populaire out of business for a while.

'And now it's up and running again,' the girl thought. She was glad, the place looked wonderful, she couldn't even tell where the fires were or anything!

"May I help you, monsieur?"

She jumped and whirled around to face a woman quite a few years older than her who was looking at the girl quizzically.

'She thinks I'm a boy,' she thought relieved, her guise had worked perfectly.

Remembering to lower her voice she asked for a room to stay in, just for tonight. The lady frowned slightly, "Couldn't an inn be more suffice?"

The girl shook her head. "No room," she said in her deepened voice, "I have a bit of money to pay for my stay. I just need a room for tonight, then I shall…" she staggered a bit but caught herself, "leave tomorrow morning," she finished. She stiffened as the lady looked her over then felt extremely relieved as she also nodded her consent.

"We have a bit of room for you to stay for tonight monsieur…?" She looked expectantly at the 'boy'.

"Oh, I'm Lark," the girl mumbled, embarrassed. If the lady thought 'Lark' was a strange name, she didn't show it. She handed the woman a couple of her precious coins and watched silently as the lady counted the pieces of silver.

"I am Meg Giry." She said, slipping the money into a pocket. "Right this way, Monsieur Lark." Looking over her shoulder, Meg could see that this, 'Lark', was painfully thin and his pants and shirt hung loosely around his body. He could do with a few large meals. Seeing that the woman was looking at her, Lark clutched her cloak closer to herself as though it were a shield. 'It is like a shield,' she though vaguely as she followed Meg up the fine polished stairs into the

'If I can keep this guise up until tomorrow, I'll be fine.' Lark thought, her head pounding. She didn't feel so well, now that Lark thought about it, possibly the effect of the bone-freezing cold. Suddenly her knees buckled dangerously then folded beneath her as she sunk to the ground in a dead faint. "Monsieur!"

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**When I began to write, the minimum, i was told, was to have at least 600 words. This one is more than 700. So yeah, basically I'm apologizing for short chapters...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Haleybob, again! Hope you liked the first cause it's only gonna get better!**

**_DISCLAIMER: _I don't and never will own Phantom of the Opera. ... But i can own my KEYBOARD!! (types new chapter) **

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_Part Two:_

Meg quickly called a pair of stagehands to carry the 'boy' up to her mother's room. Madame Giry, who had been sorting through some papers, accepted them in then instructed the stagehands to set the child on the couch. Looking the boy over, Madame Giry looked at her daughter. "What have we here, Meg?" she asked as the stagehands left.

"This is Monsieur Lark," Meg indicated the 'boy's' unconscious form. "He was looking for a room just for tonight. He paid, of course..." Meg slipped out the coins and handed them over to her mother.

Madame Giry frowned as she counted them, "Wouldn't an inn be more reasonable? There is quite a bit of money here; I'd say enough for five days at least."

"No room, all the inns are full this month." Meg answered promptly.

Lark groaned and tried to sit up but Madame Giry pushed him firmly back down. Feeling his forehead, Madame Giry swiftly pulled back her hand as though it were burned; the boy's head was on fire. Lark could feel only the chill from the outdoors and was oblivious to the fact that she was burning in temperature.

"Meg, fetch a bowl of cold water and some tonic," she checked Lark's eyes and pulse; "the poor thing has a fever, a bad one I must say too."

Lark's eyes snapped open and she frantically tried to sit up again only to be pushed down by Madame Giry.

"No! I-I cannot be sick!" she gasped, Mama had gotten sick once…but she didn't get well… "I have to leave in the morning, I cannot stay!"

Madame Giry shushed her, "We will take care of things while you are ill, Monsieur Lark. You can pay us back later; I daresay that you have enough to pay for your medical bill."

Lark bit her tongue and swallowed the tonic that was brought up to her mouth in a spoon by Meg. She couldn't stay and not let them know she wasn't a boy. 'Yes,' she decided to herself, 'I'll just tell them and that's it.'

"Mademoiselle?" she asked timidly.

"It's 'Madame Giry,'"

Lark blushed, "Sorry," she apologized, "but Madame Giry? I have to say that I'm no monsieur, I'm a girl. Please don't tell anyone else who I am, don't ask me why though…" Madame Giry was shocked but not angry; she smoothed the girl's short damp hair away from her face. "Well, mademoiselle," she said, "we will still allow you to stay and I will respect your wishes and not tell anyone you are a girl." Lark smiled weakly at her and thanked her for her kindness.

"But first we will need you to stay in another room, for you cannot stay here in my room." Said Madame Giry, straightening her dress as she stood up; she seemed to think about something as Lark watched her with feverish eyes.

"We will have to move you into another room, mademoiselle," Madame Giry finished. Lark couldn't be sure but she had thought she heard Madame Giry mutter under her breath, "Even if Erik is displeased, the girl needs a room to stay in; she did pay for herself anyway…" Turning to the girl, she asked her what age she was.

"I'll be thirteen in a week or so," was the soft reply. Madame Giry only nodded.

As Madame Giry left the room Lark felt the tonic starting to make her feel drowsy 'I wonder who Monsieur Erik is,' she thought before sleep had claimed her for its own.

In the hallway, the man called 'Monsieur Erik' was perched silently on a rafter, smirking at the stagehands that bustled what looked like a young boy into Madame Giry's room with Meg in the lead. 'Oh what trouble a simple ill child can make for soft-hearted fools, he thought grinning wickedly. With no more thoughts or cares on the matter, the man vanished from his perch into the darkness that surrounded him.

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**Again, sorry that it is short but this is my original work. The ones that have been updated will have a little mark next to the top, so you'll know which one's I've fixed. Reviews are beautiful in my eyes!**


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello! i see that you have made it to chapter three, i hope you're enjoying it! i'm sorry i haven't said anything in the last two chapters, but it couldn't be helped, i'm a little new at this AND the computer has finally let me download my story on here. FINALLY! _

_but yeah, enough about me, here's chapter three. HEY! I'M A POET AND I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW IT! _

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_**Part Three:**_

Lark awakened in a darkened room, different from the room she had just been in. 'This,' she realized, 'must be the room I am to stay in…the one Monsieur Erik will be angry about...' Lark felt a bit nervous about that, she never liked to make people angry; hopefully Monsieur Erik won't be too upset; whoever he was.

She started to shiver uncontrollably and coughed, her fever had gotten a bit worse or it just seemed worse now that she was out of the snow. Looking around the room Lark could see there was a large full length mirror, a dressing room with a wardrobe, and a beautiful black piano with a few sheets of music on it.

Wrapping herself tightly in the blankets, Lark struggled out of the bed with difficulty. She had a horrible headache now but she wanted to see the music that sat on the piano.

Picking up a sheet of the papers Lark looked over its complex notes and rhythms and quickly put it down. Her headache had gotten worse when she looked at the jumbles of sharps, flats, and the other notes that covered the paper that Lark couldn't identify.

She hugged herself tight; never in a million years would she be able to play music that well. Even though she did know a few songs for the piano she hadn't mastered all the notes that could be seen on the paper she had put down. 'How can people play or write music so well?' she thought enviously. She mentally slapped herself, she should be grateful for what she could do, not be drooling over what others could do.

A knock on the door made her jump and Lark threw herself back in the bed and pretended to just wake up as the door opened. "Are you feeling better, mademoiselle?" asked Madame Giry coming into the room bearing a tray of soup and bread.

Lark smiled weakly, but shook her head. "Not really," she replied, "I still feel ill and I have a headache." She looked up quickly, "Not that I'm not grateful! Truly I'm very thankful for your hospitality; you've treated me very kindly!"

Madame Giry just nodded with a faint smile on her lips as she watched Lark eat the soup and bread with a voracious appetite.

"It may taste bad but here's something that will help with the headache." The woman placed a cup of bitter smelling tea on the tray. Lark's eyes thanked Madame Giry more than the girl could put into words. "I will leave you to rest now," said Madame Giry getting up to leave.

Lark had a burning question to ask though, before she left Lark asked, "Who is Monsieur Erik? I don't want to be any trouble…" Madame Giry turned and looked at the girl who was looking back at her with a worried face. "You needn't to worry about that." She said calmly, "Monsieur Erik is no one to worry about."

Relieve spread down Lark as she nodded, but, she was still…puzzled.

Later into the night, when Lark was barely conscious, she could've sworn that someone far, far away was playing, pounding, an organ angrily into darkness. The music that spilt from this organ was mad and frustrated, Lark could tell. Shivering, she fell back into sleep and thought no more of the mysterious organist's angry songs…but somehow, they seemed to come from below…perhaps behind something…

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_you can review if you like, it would be much Obliged! )_


	4. Chapter 4

**Greetings! This is the first updated chapter of the story! First, I wanted to change his mask, Erik's anyways. I, at first, had only used the typical Gerrik fan girl threequarter mask. BUT now i'm using the mask from LEROUX!!**

**_DISCLAIMER: _I do not own Phantom of the Opera (maybe i can buy it from Leroux...) **

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_# Part Four_

Madame Giry was just leaving Lark's room when, turning around from the door, she found herself face to face with none other than Erik. She had been expecting him of course, but she jumped slightly on sight of him, she hated being crept on from behind.

"Why is there a _boy_ in that room?" he spat angrily, eyes flashing a dangerous gold. Madame Giry composed herself and kept her face calm though her heart was still jumping from her slight scare.

"The child is only there because there are no other rooms, not to mention that all the inns are full, and she _has_ paid for her stay. But most of all, she has a high fever and cannot be kept near others."

Erik's eyes darkened, "'she'?" he asked quietly, "you must be mistaken for I saw a _boy_ enter this Opera House, a scrawny one too, not a girl." Though his voice was quiet Madame Giry could still hear the anger in his tone.

"No, Erik," she said irritably, "it is you who is mistaken. She is a girl in the guise of a boy, why in heaven, I do not know." Puzzlement briefly crossed his eyes, his face hidden behind his mask, but it was quickly replaced with a scowl.

"Remove her at once!" he demanded, his temper rising. "You promised me that no one will go in there ever again!"

Now Madame Giry was angry, "Promises are broken, Erik, when another's need is more important. Leave her alone and she will not bother you or anyone else!" Erik bared his teeth, "She will be gone from that room now!" he snarled.

"Not until she is well! No, Erik, I mean it!" Madame Giry said firmly, "Not until she is better."

The two glared at each other, Erik towering over Madame Giry who stood unflinching and defiantly before him, her mouth set in a grim line.

Erik's eyes narrowed, "Fine," he hissed, "until the child is well. Then she will leave the room!"

Madame Giry could only say one thing, "Christine is gone, Erik. A simple room will not bring her back, it will only bring back memories you don't want."

Erik only glared at her one last time before swirling around and disappearing from sight. Madame Giry sighed, if only he could forgive and forget, his memory of Christine was still burning into his mind and would continue to do so unless he gave up his hold on the past.

Erik stormed down the cellars and into his house by the underground lake. He barely paused by Christine's room before entering his with a fury in his heart.

Throwing aside his cloak he threw himself onto the organ seat and began to play loudly and angrily, putting his frustrations into music, letting it wash over him; each note holding a meaning not many could hear. How dare they!'' He thought over and over. 'How _dare _they!' After awhile, he played with the same soft caring and lovingness as he usually did. Even though he played softer he was still furious, imagine, a snotty little child playing around with his Angel's things! No, he tried to push thoughts of Christine back from his mind but they still clung on, taunting him, jeering his failure, making him more angry than normal.

He couldn't help but fuming over the thought of _her_ dressing room being contaminated by this ill child. He stopped playing and grabbed a nearby quill and ink and a nearly finished piece of music and furiously wrote down a few more notes, looked at it, then set it back down and sighed irritably. What else can go wrong? He propped his head on his hands. First it was Christine, then this girl who dresses like a boy, and NOW he couldn't even finish a song. He sighed, 'Life was more simple before I met Christine…' he thought. But he knew he'd never regret meeting her, never.

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**Again, this is an updated chappy, hope you liked and reviews are soooo nice.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Ah the next chappy, how it warms the heart. kidding, sorry, had too much sugar today (heehee)**

**anyways, hope you're enjoying your reading, reviews are much obliged. XD

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_**Part Five:**_

Lark was still ill even after a few days but she seemed to improve despite she was still dangerously thin, close to unhealthy. She had tried to leave the next morning but Madame Giry would not permit it. "You are hardly well enough to leave the room let alone go outdoors. No, mademoiselle, you will not be leaving until you are well enough." There were little things for Lark to do in her room, mostly she had to rest and get well. She had tried to read the music sheets that she found on the piano but found it truly was too complicated for her to even attempt.

Meg had been kind to her though, talking to her and bringing a few books along for Lark to read once she found out that the girl was an excellent reader; quite strange for a girl who was no more than thirteen. Lark had been studying the music sheets that morning, trying to figure out how to play certain notes and tunes without touching the piano that sat in the room. She had a feeling she shouldn't bother it, as it seemed to be special, too special for a girl like Lark to practice on. A shudder went down her back, sometimes, like right now, she thought she could sense someone in the room through she had looked around the room quite thoroughly. It unnerved her slightly but not enough to truly scare her.

"Madame," she asked Madame Giry when she was giving lark her tonic and lunch, "is this room special?" The older woman looked up at the child, whose face was curious and wondering. "It is to some, mademoiselle," she replied and spoke no more of it. Lark got up again after Madame Giry left the room, feeling another chill of being watched. 'But how is that possible?' she asked herself.

Erik was watching from the two-way side mirror, scowling at the girl as she looked around the room, narrowing his eyes suspiously as Lark looked again at sheets of music. He wondered what music it was; Lark never took it close enough to the mirror for Erik to see, though he had a suspicion it was his work. He smirked as the young girl looked around nervously, and did a quick check of the room. So she could sense she was being watched, not bad for a child that dresses opposite of how she should dress.

Rubbing her arms, Lark set the music sheets back down on the piano stand and coughed violently. Erik hoped she wouldn't cough on anything in the room that was Christine's. 'Everything in that room is my Angel's,' he silently corrected himself. Lark had stopped coughing and had drifted to the bed, blowing the candles out and settling down for some sleep. 'I should see what music that is…' he thought briefly, 'it may get ruined by her grubby hands always touching it.' Making absolutely sure that Lark was sound asleep; Erik quietly opened the mirror and slipped into the room.

Walking as silently as he knew how, Erik crossed the room towards the back piano. Plucking up a sheet of the music he scanned it quickly and breathed in sharply. It was his alright; he could tell even though the sheet had no title to the music, he could recognize his own handwriting and music style! How the music sheets could've gotten into Christine's room Erik didn't know, but that didn't matter. Gathering the other pages, he tucked them carefully into his cloak, turned around and froze.

She, Lark, was staring right at him.


	6. Chapter 6

** You can't believe how easy it is to just download chapter, edit chapter, preveiw chapter, THEN add it to the story! (and it also helps that i have been writting this for a long time, 22 chapters!)**

**heck, i haven't even tried to change the story! (ok yes i have)**

**so i lied, sue me.**

**cough cough anyways, enjoy chapter 6, reviews not nessessary BUT are extremely helpful**

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# Part Six:**_

Lark stared at the man who stood unmoving by the piano. He had taken the music she had been looking at and now he just stood frozen to the spot staring back at her, gold eyes glittering behind a full-faced white mask. The only thought that echoed in her brain was, 'How did he get in?' She was curious, and for some strange reason, not frightened by this dark figure who had unexpectedly showed up in her room. It felt like hours that they stared at each other but in reality, it was merely a few moments before Lark opened her mouth then a knock at the door made her look up. "Lark?" a voice, Meg. Lark turned back to the man but gave a small cry of surprise; he had gone without her knowing. Quickly untangling herself from the sheets, Lark crossed the room and opened the door; letting Meg bustle in with her dinner and yet another douse of tonic.

"I couldn't find any other books for you," said Meg as she set down the tray at the desk, "my you're a fast reader!" Lark only nodded and looked around the room, searching for a place _he_ could've hidden. Meg bustled around chatting absentmindedly about the new opera that was going to be played tomorrow night and the new blizzard that had just struck Paris. "You might even have to stay an extra night until it blows over, hopefully we'll still have a full house for the opera!" The girl just smiled and nodded while she checked the room's dressing area, though truthfully she didn't know what she'd do if she actually found the masked man.

Meg had stopped talking to look at Lark search around the room with a puzzled look on her face. "What are you looking for?" she asked questioningly as Lark stopped checking behind the piano. "Oh…nothing." Lark replied and quickly changed the subject. 'Why worry them?' she thought, 'he could've been just my imagination.' Lark seriously doubted this. After awhile she began to tire again and said a weary goodnight to Meg who left cheerfully saying over her shoulder, "If you're not too tired, you should see the opera tomorrow night from backstage! I don't think anyone would mind if you stayed out of people's way."

Lark brightened at the idea, she'd never seen an opera in her lifetime yet; it could be fun and she'd get a chance to leave her room for once. Closing the door, she got that chill that she was being watched and she did another check around the room before blowing out the candles and snuggling in the sheets. "Surely he couldn't have been real," she told herself, "how could anyone get in here unless using the door?" Feeling not a bit convinced, Lark's eyes feel on the piano where the sheets of music had disappeared from their stand; she knew she had not imagined the masked man. Lark closed her eyes and slept her last gaze on the piano.

Erik was trembling slightly though he couldn't tell or notice. He stared out from behind the safety of the mirror. 'Idiot!' his mind was yelling at him. 'Idiot! The girl _saw_ you!!' Indeed Lark had seen him; Erik didn't doubt that for even a minute. While the girl was distracted with the door he had been able to duck in into the open mirror door and close it securely before she noticed he had left. Watching her through the glass, breathing heavily, Erik saw that she had looked around the room carefully.

He stiffened as she talked to Meg, would she tell her about seeing him? No, she had said nothing about him, Erik felt relieved but he had to wonder…why? Why didn't she say anything about their brief meeting? Erik knew plenty of dancer girls shrieking and making fools of themselves as they told everyone that they had seen the Opera Ghost. But this girl, she didn't say a thing, even though he could tell she had wanted to say something about him. Did she think that she didn't see him?

'Yes, that must be it,' he told himself as Lark said goodbye to Meg and fallen back asleep. He didn't believe himself though. And he could only think of how she had looked at him, not with fear as he had expected but with puzzlement and curiosity. Erik shook his head and headed back to the lair; he refused to think any more about it.

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**Updated. XD**


	7. Chapter 7

**Updated and sooo happy!**

**_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Phantom of the Opera. (and why do i bother saying the sad truth._**

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**_ Part Seven:_**

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The next morning was much better for Lark, her headache had disappeared but she was still a bit weak, especially in the knees. Reaching for her cloak Lark took an object from its pocket and stroked it lovingly whispering, "See Mama? I got better…" She put it back into the pocket and placed her head on her drawn-up knees. She thought of the masked man she saw last night. Who was he? And why did he take the music sheets? Lark was a bit put out when she realized that he had taken the music sheets but then if he hadn't…Lark doubted that she would believe that he really appeared in her room.

She remembered how they stared at each other, how neither said nor did anything. 'Why didn't I say something?' she wondered, 'I should be scared to death that a man in a mask was in my room last night.' And yet, and yet she wasn't afraid of him. Seeing the mask on his face had reminded her of someone… For one reason or another Lark had felt a little less afraid when she had seen his mask, Lark could almost tell that she'd of have been more scared if it was a man without a mask then one with one on.

But she had felt less frightened when she caught sight of his mask. "Just like Mama," she said. Removing herself from the bed she felt stronger than when she had first come to the Opera Populaire. Lark got dressed into her shirt and pants for the first time in a long while, she had been wearing a nightgown when she was more ill. 'I can leave my cloak,' she thought before leaving, though she took the object in its pocket and placed it inside her shirt close to her heart.

Opening the door with new strength the girl set out to find Meg or perhaps Madame Giry. The Opera Populaire was in a big rush and very busy back stage, Lark had to leap out of people's way as they hurried past. All were getting ready for tonight's performance. Girls in bright costumes that glittered prettily when they moved raced pace Lark, pausing only near a chalk box to dust their ballet slippers with the white powder for better movement.

Men with half painted faces strode past her all shouting and practicing lines. 'Everyone's so busy,' thought Lark excitedly as she ducked underneath a pair of stagehands that carried a large painted block of some sort, wheezing heavily under its weight.

"Lark!"

Lark spun around to find herself face to face with Meg who was also dressed as the other ballet girls. "You look very pretty," Lark said, Meg beamed and grabbed her arm, leading her forward to the stage. "You can watch us practice!" said Meg, "Just stand next to my mother, she won't mind." Lark nodded and took her place next to Madame Giry while Meg joined the other ballet dancers.

Madame Giry nodded a good morning to Lark before shouting at the girls to get in position. The young girl watched with wonder as music began to play as the dancers swept across the stage with grace and ease one would envy. "Are you feeling any better, mademoiselle?" Madame Giry asked as she watched the dancing girls carefully in case there was a flaw. "Much better, thank you," replied Lark.

"That's good. Feet together, Marie!" she barked, causing the one called Marie to jump into the correct position, her pretty face ablaze. Lark smiled and left Madame Giry's side to sit casually on the edge of the stage.

She should stay here in the opera, it was so nice. Surely Lark could…she glanced up and saw the ladies that cleaned the opera up in the seats and a little light when off in her head.

Getting up, Lark asked an actor where there the manager's office was and headed down the halls directed to her. 'I can be one of the maids!' she thought happily, 'then I could stay!' She touched the slight bulge in her shirt where the object was. 'I wish you could see it here, Mama,' she thought, 'you would love it.' The girl was passing the rooms when a dark figure caught her eye.

Looking up, she was very surprised to see the masked man perched on a rafter. As though he could tell she was looking at him, Erik looked down and stared at her for a moment then disappeared. 'Was that…?' Lark thought, 'Was that the masked man from my room..?' She was positive it was him, and Lark wanted to see where he went but… She continued down the halls, she had to speak to the manager about a certain cleaner's job…

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**This has been Haleybob, over and out.**


	8. Chapter 8

**as the authoress, you would think i should be more serious. oh well, too late to see that phyciatrist. (i can't even spell without spell check)**

**(That's sad)**

**ok, that was a burn. i need some ice with my burn. anyone have some ice?**

**here's chappy 8, enjoy! **

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**_# Part Eight:_**

"Mmm, I'm not sure that a young boy like you would want to be a maid…" the manager said, "It's hard work and usually the women do that sort of thing." Lark bit her lip before replying, "Oh no, monsieur, I don't mind cleaning at all! I actually enjoy it and I'll work at just five francs a week if that would help!" The manager looked up at the boy who stared back with almost pleading eyes. Strange how he would ask for less, the manager had several maids demand as much as twelve francs for their weekly pay. "Well I don't see a downside," he said slowly, "yes, well if you don't mind cleaning then please report to Madame Giry with this," he handed her a note, "and I welcome you to the Opera Populaire."

Lark beamed and bowed low to the manager and raced off to Madame Giry to give the note with the good news. The manager smiled, bemused, at the child's racing back. Shaking his head, his only other thought on the matter was, 'this place is rather dirty still, who knows? The boy could really help out…' Lark walked after running so she could look up at the rafters hoping to get perhaps another glimpse of the man. She didn't see him up there so she ran back to the stage where Madame Giry was shooing the ballet girls off; practice was over.

"Madame Giry!" squealed Lark happily, pushing the not into the woman's hand, "I got a job!" Madame Giry's eyebrows raised, "Indeed?" She read the note and tucked it in her pocket. Looking at Lark who was beaming at her she had to ask, "Only five francs a week, mademoiselle? That's not very much for a young girl like you…" The girl shrugged, "I don't really need a lot of money, just enough to let me be able to continue living here. I don't really have a place I was going to before, and I really like it here!" Madame Giry smiled gently and stroked the girl's short inch-below-the-ear hair. "You might have to have another room; we have another smaller vacant room that you can live in upstairs. It'll be closer to the main stairs and other rooms you'll have to clean."

Lark beamed at her and thanked the woman before asking, "Should I go move in my room, now?" Madame Giry nodded, "Only if you feel well enough, mademoiselle." Lark nodded solemnly then skipped down to the room to collect her things. Looking around the room Lark felt a bit sad to leave it. 'I'm not really leaving,' she thought.

"I get to work here so now I don't have to leave the Opera Populaire; so really I'm just moving to a different room!" Lark said out loud. Feeling satisfied, she gathered her cloak and was about to leave when the piano caught her attention. Maybe…it wouldn't hurt to play just one song, would it? After that she wouldn't touch it again, Lark promised silently to herself. Sitting down she felt the white and black keys. She grinned to herself and started to play.

Erik had heard that the small girl staying in the room would be working there in the Opera. 'So she isn't going to leave the Opera anytime soon…' He thought dryly. Walking silently among the rafters, Erik puzzled over the fact if this girl, Lark, was going to leave Christine's room or not. He would find Madame Giry, although he'd rather not, and ask if she would be leaving the room.

He nodded to himself then started toward the stage to look for Madame Giry. Passing the room, Erik looked down and saw Lark opening the door and entering her room. Curious, he descended to the floor and Erik paused by the door to see if he could hear any news of her actually leaving the room or not.

Erik grinned when he heard her talking out loud to herself; she would be leaving the room and was going to another to live! He cheered silently in his head; soon she would be out of his hair! Though, Erik hesitated, he wasn't as happy about it as he thought he would be. About to leave, Erik stopped and listened hard. Was that…?

Yes, music was pouring out of the room from the piano that was inside. It had never been played before, and Erik was quite unused to its sweet sounds. He listened for a moment or two; she really wasn't that bad, though he could hear a few errors here and there as she played. No longer listening to the sweet music, Erik swirled his cloak and walked away, he had a few errands to do and a busy schedule behind that…

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**Updated. XD**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hopefully these chapters aren't too short for everyone. i assure you, they are all more than 500 words. that was the miniume when i started writting. :D**

**well anyways, hope you're enjoying yourself ****_

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**_# Part Nine:_**

Lark played her finest, she was positive on that, she beamed as she rubbed her fingers. They were a little sore from playing so long. But all good things must come to an end, she sighed and stood up from the piano's bench and bent to gather her cloak from the floor. A breath of cold air chilled the back of her neck suddenly. Straightening, Lark rubbed her neck, looking around nervously; how could there be a draft in a room with no windows? And she was positive that she closed the door behind her so how could she feel cold air blowing on her? The girl had never felt one when she was ill.

It came again; chills ran down her from her neck to her spine, from behind her. Turning around slowly Lark found herself looking face to face with the full length mirror. A look of puzzlement crossed her face as she reached out and touched the cold glass with her fingertips. Feeling across the smooth surface, her quivering hand felt a hairline opening at the end of it; excitement filled her to the brim, wasn't it an opening? Lark ran a finger down the crack on the side and jumped as a cold breeze of air reached her hand. Now she knew where the draft came from but…she stuffed her fingernails in the crack and pulled slightly to the right. The glass slide to the side as if it was a door, revealing a dark passageway. Lark's heart pounded madly in her temples as a gust of cold air washed over her.

"Amazing…" she murmured, and without thinking of anything else, she slipped inside the passageway and closed the mirror…door? Looking up, she saw that the mirror was two-way; she could see the inside of her room but when looking from the front of the glass you couldn't see the hall. 'Ingenious,' she thought giddily as she studied the door's works. Cobwebs hung loosely from barely used candle holders and water dripped from the stone ceiling. She could barely see in front of her into the darkness; unconsciously Lark hoped she didn't have to clean this hall.

Putting out a hand to guide her, Lark felt her way down the passage stumbling slightly. Looking back once, she convinced herself this wouldn't take too long; it didn't seem to go so far down. Feeling the wall was rather unpleasant for it was wet with water and a bit sticky, Lark was positive she had heard several rats too. Going down father into the blackness, a soft light appeared ahead and when passing it, the girl saw that it was a torch. "Someone uses these tunnels," she said out loud, her voice echoing off the walls. Clamping a hand to her mouth she waited tense; nothing happened. Sighing, Lark continued on, keeping one hand firmly along the wall and the other resting on the slight bulge in her shirt.

It felt like twenty minutes had passed before Lark turned a corner. Coming around she stopped dead with her mouth dropping open in awe; she had come to the shores of some sort of lake. A large, ominous looking house towered over its waters. "Amazing," she breathed, entering the house silently. There were candles in dark brackets on the walls to light up the dim hallways and no other decorations could be found. Lark stopped at a slightly opened door. It beckoned to her and the child felt her fingers consent and open it wide enough for her to slip in. It was rather dark, but candles lit the place mostly. A dark, canopied object was the farthest from her, but she felt no need to look at it. A few black tapestries hung up on the walls with white notes repeated on a huge scale. "Pretty," she murmured, wondering what it would sound like if it was played. A desk sat in a corner, scattered with papers, possible paintings, and pens with their bottles of ink, and other items that Lark couldn't name.

Another spot of the room had a few instruments lying quietly on the ground, unused in their own little corner. Sheets of what seemed like music lay strewn around them, creating a little pool of musical items. There were doors leading someplace else down the halls, but Lark didn't feel the urge to search them. This was obviously someone's house, or possibly a getaway of some type. Shivering with excitement, Lark picked her way through the music sheets and instruments.

The thing that had caught her eye was magnificently set with a large keyboard and pipes, resting in center of the room; an organ. "Oh lor," she whispered, running her hands over the white dove and ebony black keys. The organ was a piece of work for sure, with rich carvings, well polished frame, and well used keys; someone played it frequently for sure. Half finished and completed music scores were scattered all over its top and a single blood-red rose lay on the organ seat, its leaves slightly wilted but still quite pretty. Plucking up a strangely familiar music piece, Lark drew in a sharp breath; it was the music from her room. Now she felt nervous and looked around the room; if this was the music sheets from the dressing room then this must be…

A cold, rage-filled voice cut through the air. "_What are you doing_?"

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**Updated. XD**


	10. Chapter 10

** I want to thank the people that have been reading my phic, even though i only know two of them. lol!**

**but yes, tell me if you need me to speed up, i got the chapters. **

**:D**

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# Part Ten:**_

_****_

Lark spun around, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. Her eyes looked down landing on the hem of a black cloak, and slowly continued upward until she was looking straight into fiery gold eyes. It was the masked man from her room. "What are you doing?" he asked again. She shivered under his glare; you could feel the anger that vented from this masked phantom. His eyes narrowed dangerously behind the mask, "Well?" he demanded, "Better say something; I'm not a patient type."

"I-I…" she stumbled over her words; "There was a draft!" she burst out. He cocked his head to the side slightly, his eyes frowning. "And when I looked up to find it, because there aren't any windows so there couldn't be a draft, there was an opening in the really big mirror!" If the man seemed confused he hid it well, his eyes, however, still sparked with anger at her trespassing.

Lark continued after taking another deep breath, "And I did the only thing a person would do in that situation so I looked at it and it was open and so I went inside! I really like how you worked the door by the way it was very clever, and I saw the tunnel thing so I was curious of where it went so I followed it and I came in and found the house, I didn't know it was _your _place so I just looked around in some of the rooms. I didn't touch anything!

Then there was the organ in here, I really like it too monsieur, and so I was just looking at the music sheets on it 'cause I like music a lot and there was the music from the dressing room and so I guess this is really your work area or something and I'm really, really sorry and it won't happen again, I'll go back! I know the way so I won't get lost so I'm sorry just don't be angry!"

Lark had to breathe in deeply after her confession; she had said it in all but one gasp of air. One of the things she did quite often if she had did something bad.

"…Are you done?"

Lark nodded and looked down at her feet, she was so stupid! Curse her curiosity… The man just looked at her and rubbed his eyes irritably. She had asked him not to be angry, a strange request… Taking a deep breath to at least _tame_ his smoldering fury he said, "You shouldn't have let your curiosity get the better of you; it's a very bad habit." Lark looked like she was about to launch into another one-breath confession so Erik interrupted her quickly; he was in no mood to listen to long apologies.

"I can take you back, but you must never, _ever_ come back down here again. You were lucky to catch me in one of my better moods." He glared at her hatefully before snatching the papers away from her and setting it gently back in its place on the organ.

Lark looked at him; this was one of his better moods? He had looked at her with such venom… Biting her lip, she nodded then said a whispered, "I promise…" since his back was turned. He turned back to her and seemed to grow another three inches to his towering height as he offered a gloved hand. No doubt Erik was still angry, but the least he could do was to make absolutely sure that this girl got back to the surface; plus he had a certain glass door to lock.

Taking his hand Lark followed behind him obediently out of the room, out of the house, and into the dark corridor, looking at him with puzzled eyes the whole way. Why did he live under the Opera Populaire? Was he allowed? Unconsciously the girl knew he wasn't allowed but he was not harming anyone, she would keep quiet. No need to worry anyone. Erik glanced back a few times, like he was making sure she was following. Lark's thoughts turned to the man's mask; it was a very well crafted one to be sure, quite amazing but…why wear it? It's as if he was hiding something…

Somehow it reminded her of something but she couldn't put a finger on it, Lark made a face slightly, she hated it when she forgot something important. She figured that she had a question but what was it? Glancing around, she was surprised that they had already arrived where she had first come in. Checking the room before opening the mirror, Erik turned toward the girl and motioned for her to go. "I will be watching in case you try this again…" he said glaring at her. Lark gulped slightly and nodded to let him know she understood.

He was about to go back when Lark remembered her question and quickly reached out and grabbed his arm, he drew back a bit, unused to the gesture. "Wait," she asked, "so are you—are you Monsieur Erik?" He flinched at the sound of the name; gold eyes downcast and wouldn't meet her own. The dark figure drew back farther into the tunnel and the glass mirror started to close but not before he replied quietly, "Yes…"

It closed silently and Lark could hear a soft _click_ from behind it; leaving her staring at the mirror. Still confused about what had just happened, Lark gathered her cloak and belongings and strode out of the room. "Mademoiselle, there you are!" Lark turned around, Madame Giry walked briskly over to her. "Where did you go?" The girl knew it probably wouldn't be okay if she told the woman about seeing Erik. "Um, I got a bit lost but I found my way back here so…" she shrugged casually, trying to hide the damp sleeves of her shirt. "Where is my room again?"

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_Updated. XD**


	11. Chapter 11

**i always wondered what it would be like to live in the Opera. so i guess that Lark is living there for me! XD**

**it was a thought. **_**

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**_# Part Eleven:_**

The performance was going to be played tonight; Lark could feel the buzzing excitement echo around the theatre and its people. She was working now, cleaning the opera house was pretty hard, but nothing she couldn't handle. Lark grimaced as she rung out her rag; she was polishing the steps, the stink of boot polish filled the air making her nose wrinkle in distaste. The only thing else that was so annoying about it was that she would have to do the same thing after the performance and not many people cleaned their shoes before coming in.

As she scrubbed Lark's mind drifted back to Erik. She hadn't seen him again yet, but she got the feeling he was still watching; especially when she was cleaning her old room. The room that he didn't want anyone going in, but she had too; it was part of her job to clean the rooms, used or unused. She had avoided the mirror as much as she could, in case _he_ was watching. There were a few times that Lark had thought to have seen him, especially in the rafters, but then when she tried to look again he would be gone. Music floated up to reach her ears and the girl smiled, it was rehearsal time for the ballerinas, and Meg would be doing the roll of the ballet.

'Too bad I can't watch' Lark thought sadly as she finished the steps; gathering up her bucket of polish and her rag she put them away along with the other mops. She rubbed her fingers gently; scrubbing steps and floors all day on your knees was hard on the hand muscles. She was going to need to build up some calluses here and there if she didn't want to have raw skin.

One of the ladies that mopped the floors nodded to the girl, "Good work, boy. You're better than I thought." Lark bowed her head appreciatively then headed off to her room; yes, everyone other than Meg and Madame Giry thought she was a boy; her guise was rather excellent and her short hair helped.

Glancing up automatically into the rafters as she passed in the hallways Lark could've sworn she saw a cape and a flash of white as she looked; she was always checking to see if she could spot him, though Lark didn't know what she'd do if she did get a glimpse of him. "Curiosity killed the cat, Lark." She scolded herself, and then smiled adding, "But satisfaction brought it back." Her smile faded as her thoughts went back on topic.

But why didn't he want anyone to see him? He had even flinched away when she had asked if he was Erik, his own name. He reminded her so much of…who?

"You can watch from here, I trust, without getting in the way, right?" Meg asked Lark, placing the girl behind a curtain near the stage. "You can see the play better if you stay here, just push aside the curtain to see, ok?" Lark nodded and thanked her for finding her a spot so she could watch from side view. As Meg walked off, muttering lines, Lark peered into the crowd amazed at how many people came. 'This should be a really good play,' the girl thought excitedly, 'and I get to watch from the actual stage!' Looking up into the boxes, Lark could see very important people in elegant gowns and suits. The ladies jewelry was very pretty, some wore diamonds so bright, they gave off little flickers of light.

All the boxes were filled that evening, except for one that the manager wouldn't sell; box five straight across from where the girl was standing. A subtle flash of something white drew Lark's eyes up to the box. She felt her mouth drop open, in the shadows of the box a dark figure sat impatiently for the play to start. The thing that caught Lark's eye was the white mask covering the man's face.

Why he was coming to watch the play, he couldn't guess; though he had gotten frustrated with working and he was quite bored. Erik fidgeted slightly; he knew he should've come in later so he wouldn't have to wait. Looking around cautiously he made sure that no one could see him from another box or from the stage.

The _last_ thing Erik needed was publicity of the return of the Phantom of the Opera. He smirked, amused; it would be all over the papers that he had returned if he showed himself now before all these people.

Looking down at the stage he noticed a small figure hidden by a curtain near the corner across from him. It looked like a boy mostly, but the face was oddly familiar. Cocking his head Erik could see that it was that was indeed the girl, Lark. 'The girl who dresses like a boy,' he thought giving her a glare in case she could see him.

The girl's head ducked down, she had seen him in the box. He put one of his fingers against his masked lips, signing for Lark to be silent; the child nodded furiously and looked determinedly at the stage as the music began and dancers swirled across the stage. Smirking, Erik leaned back and watched the play.

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**Updated. XD**

**i think Erik would have stopped sulking from in his lair to watch a few performances. dont you agree?**


	12. Chapter 12

**i haven't even made my Christmas list, argh!!!**

**and it doesn't help that my brother is asking repeatedly, "What do you want?" for i don't know.**

**fasinating.****_

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**_Part Twelve:_**

The performance was beautiful, no doubt about that, Lark felt breathless as the last of act 5 came to an end. The lead singer, Lark didn't know her name, had come to the part where after she sang the last verse she had to tear of the locket around her throat and throw it into the crowd; very dramatic. As the woman finished the song, she tugged it off and hurled the jewelry into the crowd gracefully; Lark followed the necklace with her eyes as it soared through the air and landed on the golden hand of a statue near Erik's box.

Watching, Lark could see him recoil deeper into the shadows as people in the crowd turned in their seats to see where the jewelry piece had landed. "Rotten luck, there…" Lark muttered, causing an unsuspected ballerina to jump; the dancer hadn't seen Lark hiding in the curtains. Looking at the box, Lark saw that Erik had left.

The girl looked up at the gold statue and sighed sadly, pity it was stuck there…but perhaps she could get it later. Waiting for the last of the performers to pass her, Lark left her hideaway from behind the curtains. All the people had left now, and the performers had started to clear up the stage. Smiling happily, Lark went to join the others in cleaning the steps.

It was eating at her mind; surely she could go see the stage? Or to be more precise, the box five. Lark lay on her bed staring at the ceiling; her thoughts boring into her head. She was itching to get up and move around, tired though she was, she got a strange urge to move about. It was like that even before coming to the Opera Populaire that Lark would get the need to, in a way, prowl around. She couldn't stand it any more. Getting up, Lark changed quickly to her pants and shirt before leaving the room.

Peering out her door cautiously, the girl looked around for anyone in the hall in case someone was out there for the night. Everyone was sleeping or gone as Lark crept quietly out of her new room. Thankfully not many people had rooms close to hers so she could leave easily without waking anyone. The girl wanted to see the box where the man was, perhaps there was something of interest in there, besides, she was curious about the box before Erik was there.

Entering the stage room she could only marvel for a moment at the beautiful statues and carvings, each a gorgeous gold coloring that it seemed possible if they were actual gold. 'How did they carve it?' she wondered quietly as she continued on her way.

Walking behind the stage to the hallways where you entered the boxes, Lark stopped at the door marking 5 in gold plating. Peering into the box, the girl was not surprised to see it empty. There were four gold-framed chairs with plush crimson cushions and matching curtains framed around the opening. Lark felt one of the chair's frames in awe as she admired the craftsmanship of the seat.

Something glittered in the corner of her eye. Turning around swiftly Lark looked at where the glitter had come up. "Oh!" she said in a hushed voice, there on the fingers of the golden statue outside the box was the beautiful necklace the Prima Donna had thrown. Starting forward eagerly, a crinkle of paper made Lark look down.

Moving her boot away she saw that she had accidentally trod on a half finished music sheet. Picking it up she straightened the paper as best she could and placed it on the chair; whoever left it would probably come and get it back. Turning back to the necklace, Lark leaned out slightly and reached with her hand for the piece of jewelry. No, still too far, the girl leaned out a bit further stretching her fingers.

The fingertips could barely touch it; grimacing Lark hitched herself onto the rail and reached out once again, straightening her arm as far as it would go. Busy with the necklace, Lark didn't notice her hip sliding off the other side of the ledge and gave a choked out gasp as she fell.

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**Updated. XD**

**frankly i can see this happening, can't you?**


	13. Chapter 13

** It's strange that my chapters sometimes go to only 600 words to 900, very stange indeed. i guess it just means that each chapter has its own special length it needs to be.**

**well that made no sense at all!**

**here's chapter 13, hope you're enjoying the story!**

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_**# Part Thirteen:**_

Erik was fuming silently over a non-existent piece of music that should have been sitting at the organ's stand. Where was the other half? His weeks worth of work, missing! He scowled and checked around the organ and around his room with a slight feverish air. He even checked the other rooms of the whole house, but ended up coming back to his room. He was sure he lost it in his room. Digging through a mountain of paper, Erik got more and more frustrated as he could not find his missing page.

This was bad, he couldn't find it anywhere around his house. Not by the organ, not by the Louise Philippe room, not in any other rooms. Storming out of the house to the lake's silent shores, Erik kicked a rock into the lake with one swift movement of his boot and watched with a dull amusement when the rock skipped three times before sinking deep into the bottom of the lake. Taking a deep breath of the cold air, Erik went back inside to check, once again, around his room. He looked again around the coffin, desk, and the organ, shoving quills, papers, and ink bottles away from his search but found that he couldn't find even a trace of his missing music sheet.

Sitting down irritably at the organ's seat, Erik thought back of where he could've placed it anywhere outside the house. He rubbed his head as he tried to think, going over all he did that day. It hit him like a slap, Erik had left the sheet in his seat when watching the play; he had brought it to work on when he got bored. He had left it in that bloody box! Rolling his eyes he got up and stalked angrily out of his home to the pathway that would lead to the dressing room above the six cellars. Almost running up the numerous flights of stairs Erik didn't even breathe as heavily as he would before. Coming up to the glass mirror he peered carefully out.

Even though he was angry, it didn't mean he was careless after all. Seeing that no one was around, he opened the mirror with ease and stepped into the room. Lark had done well keeping it clean, Erik had to admit that grudgingly. Walking out into the dark halls, he felt relaxed as much as he could with a sheet of his work lying around. The night was his good companion, keeping curious eyes off him, keeping him safe. He had already long ago accepted the darkness in which he lived in, he never regretted it.

Thankfully the hallway leading to the boxes was vacant when Erik stalked down them, still fuming that he had left a piece of his precious music in some careless place where anyone could take it. Turning the corner to where box five's door lay open; surprising Erik only slightly. Madame Giry had gotten lazy with her duty to the boxes keepings, but when he looked inside he hastily hid in the nearby curtain. Curse that curious girl!

Yes, in the box he saw Lark looking around in awe, was the room that special to her? His eyes sparked angrily when a crinkle made her look down, she had stepped on his music! He ground his teeth together to keep from darting over there and shoving her away. Not knowing she was being watched, the girl plucked up the paper and scanned it briefly before smoothing out the wrinkles, much to Erik's surprise. Gently she placed the paper on the seat next to her and straightened, looking out at something Erik didn't see.

This was his chance, all he had to do was quickly grab the paper and leave; she wouldn't miss the paper for long. As he came out slowly from behind the curtain he stopped and watched as she leaned out and was attempting to grab something outside the box. Peering closely he saw that the necklace from the performance was dangling precariously from the fingers of a gold statue. 'That's foolish, she can't reach it.' He thought, grabbing the paper from the seat. Tucking it safely in the folds of his cloak he turned back to watch the girl before he left the door.

She couldn't reach it yet she was trying to reach it, not realizing the danger of the deed. Shaking his head, he turned to leave the box and head back to his lair when a feeling of dread crept over him. Erik swirled around quickly and saw that her hip that was hiked up on the side was sliding off over the wrong side as Lark gave one more lunge for the necklace. Erik's stomach gave a painful lurch as he heard the girl give a choked gasp, and tumbled over the edge.

Quick as a lightning strike, Erik darted over and grabbed her shoulders roughly, yanking her back over the ledge, stepping out of the way as Lark gave a startled cry as she fell over the seat onto the thick carpet of the box's floor. Her breathing came hard and rasping as her hand lay clutched over her heart, the necklace dangling from her other shaking hand.

He towered over her and yanked Lark roughly to her feet. "That was stupid!" he said angrily, "You could have killed yourself if I hadn't caught you in time!" Lark just stared at him with large eyes, looking once over the ledge then back at him, realization dawning in her green brown eyes. "Th-thank y-you monsieur..." she said faintly.

Erik made a face at her, "Did you know you could've snapped your neck during that fall you could've taken? You'd have been lucky if you lived with just a full paralyzed body, _if _you were lucky." Lark shook her head slowly, her face paling as she thought of her near death experience. "I don't feel good…" she murmured, and collapsed in a dead faint; who could blame her?

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**Updated. XD Oh yeah, and the # sign shows that I have updated an old one if you haven't guessed, though i forgot to add the # on one of them, but I siad it was "Updated XD" so all is well.**

**anything you would like to suggest to improve my writting is accepted.**


	14. Chapter 14

** I always pictured the scene of someone falling off the balcony everytime i see one.**

**let's see, anything else to say...hmm. nope!**

**Enjoy chapter 14!**

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# Part Fourteen:**_

She could almost touch it, the necklace was right there…fingers centimeters away the necklace turned into a sneering face as she fell. Lark was falling, falling, the ground coming closer and closer as she fell off the ledge; that sneering face laughing. The floor was near now, the pain would be incredible, the pain…a mask in the distance, ignoring her pleas, falling, falling… "ERIK!" Lark awoke in a cold sweat as her body trembled like an autumn leaf in a cold wind. She looked around, her heart jumping, frantically wishing she knew where she was.

This was not her room, nor anywhere in the Opera Populaire that Lark knew of. She started to feel a little panicky and was about to jump up as a piece of the wall opened and Erik walked past. She watched him, her mouth hanging open as he muttered quietly under his breath, digging in a cupboard that Lark hadn't noticed. Taking papers out he shook them out and picked through them before selecting one and putting it in a pocket of his cloak. He glanced at her, his eyes amused behind the mask. "Oh, you're awake, good."

The girl just stared at him and then the whole night came back to her in a flash. "Oh!" she said slowly, mostly to herself, "The ledge, I fell. You caught me? Yes, yes, you did I remember…" Erik just shrugged and walked out another door, returning a moment later with a cup of something Lark couldn't name. He placed it firmly in her shaky hand. "Drink," he ordered, "it will clear your head." He walked away leaving the room muttering under his breath, "Clearing as much it can in _her _head at least…"

Lark had too big of a headache to feel insulted, she grimaced and swallowed the cup's contents in one huge gulp and gave a small gasp as it spread through her veins like a wildfire. It had a stinging aftertaste but none the less, the girl's head felt clearer than it had a moment later. She coughed then sat up and looked at her surroundings. She was in a different room than the dinning hall she was in before, its interior quite pretty for someone such as Erik. Though, Lark had that feeling that this was a room for a girl, not for himself. Rubbing her shoulders, she got up out of the bed and nearly toppled over from a bit of dizziness that still clung to her. "Dang…" she said irritably, smacking the side of her head gently in frustration.

A chord drifted through into her room, she listened closely as it wavered into her head, it was beautiful but then it stopped with someone's cry of frustration. Crossing over to the door she saw Erik leave out of, Lark peered out into the dark halls of the house. The sound was coming from another door. Pattering soft as a mouse, the child moved towards the door and eased it open, hoping it was the right one. Yes, Erik was in there, sitting at the organ's bench, scratching out something on the music sheet before him. Mumbling under his breath and tapping a finger unconsciously to an unknown beat, he didn't notice Lark at all as he scribbled something down, looked at it then shook his head. Coming closer, she could her him mutter something. "Damn, damn, _damn,"_ he cursed darkly, crossing a section out. He kneaded his head for a moment, and then turned around swiftly in his seat staring straight at Lark with a scowl.

She took a quick step back as he glared at her, the girl didn't realize she was peering over his shoulder. "I can't concentrate, mademoiselle, when you are breathing continuously down my neck." He said, gold eyes flashing. Lark blushed and stepped away from him. "Sorry…I didn't mean…to pry…." She mumbled, backing away hastily. He gave her one more glare then turned back to his music, playing a few chords stopping only then to scrawl it down. 'He's very devoted to his music…' Lark thought curiously, 'he didn't even notice that I wasn't in here in the first place.' She walked over to the paper covered desk that sat near a dark shape that was covered with a canopy. She assumed was a bed and didn't take any more thought to it. Plucking at the papers on the top of the desk, she shifted them gently; checking to make sure Erik wasn't bothered by her noise. He didn't even glace at her. Sorting through them they were mostly more music sheets, some written on some not, but there were a few below those. Pictures, all hand drawn. Lark looked at them in surprise, then at Erik, then back to the papers.

So he was an artist, and possibly an architect, since there were sketching of beautiful buildings and landscapes. But the one that caught her eye was the one of a woman; it was deeply buried in the pile. She was very pretty, with long brown hair and a gentle, beautiful face with large brown eyes. Why there was a sketch of this person…

A hand came out from behind her and snatched the picture away. Lark turned, he was standing behind her giving the girl death glares. "Don't go through my possessions, mademoiselle." He told her coldly, tucking the paper into his pocket. He pushed her away from the desk, glaring at her. The girl walked a bit away from the desk, bowing her head in apology. But…Lark bit her lip then had to ask, "Is she real?" Erik stiffened. "Does that lady…in the picture…is she real?" the girl repeated curiously.

Erik turned away from her and walked back over to his organ. "Yes, she lives and breaths like any other person." He seated himself down and drew his music sheets back towards him. "What's her name?" Erik's hands clenched into fists as he spun around to face her. "Stop asking questions!" he said irritably, his eyes flashing a dangerous gold. Lark nodded quickly then sat near a corner. He gave her a warning look before turning back to his music.

'He's an unusual person…an unusual person indeed.' Lark thought sighing, taking out a few small pebbles out of her pocket.

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**Updated. XD**

**He really is an unusual person, there's some truth to that for him. no offense, Erik! No! not the Punjab! AHHH!**


	15. Chapter 15

**I apologize that this chapter is short, even after its update. But 600 was the limit...**

**Disclaimer: I Don't Own PHANTOM OF THE OPERA (why people put that i don't know...) **

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_# Part Fifteen:_

Lark played with some pebbles she had found by the lake, letting them trickle through each finger and admiring each stones' perfectly smooth surface. Erik ignored her presence as he worked; he was fine with this, though, since she was happy enough just to listen. She began to hum a soft tune as she picked up another pebble, tossing it up and down in her hands in a solo player game of catch. Hunched up, Erik tried to ignore the tune but found himself slipping it into the music he was working on.

He rolled his eyes, trying to calm himself, before turning. "Sing that tune again." He demanded turning around. Lark dropped the rock she was playing with to stare at him. "_Huh_?"

Erik sighed irritably, children could be so thick-headed, "That chord you were humming, repeat it." The girl looked genuinely surprised. "Oh…um…ok," she said confused. Lark began to hum it from the beginning. He listened for a moment nodding to himself then stopped her. She watched him intently as he turned around, writing something down on a fresh piece of music paper. He glanced once at her.

"Thank you." He said awkwardly, as if the words were strange to use, she smiled at him but he had already turned away.

She knew it would be bad if she asked but the question was burning into her brain. "What are you working on?" He made another mark with his quill before answering, "What I work on is no concern of yours, mademoiselle." Lark nodded but still felt curious, feeling herself creep closer she was very curious about him. Why did he live down here? What was he working on? Most importantly, what was with the mask?

It reminded her so much of someone, so much of Mama. Walking quietly behind him she was surprised that he didn't notice her as he was so enveloped in his work. He would tap out the time with one hand while playing a chord with the other then stop all together to add it on the piece in front of him. Lark watched Erik, her eyes glancing curiously at the full white mask that covered his entire features.

Biting her lip, she opened her mouth, and then closed it before registering the courage to ask, "Excuse me but…why did you write the song I hummed on a separate piece of music paper?" His hands never stopped working as he sighed. "If I write something down," he said, still playing and jotting down notes between words, "all of it, I can put it aside and get it out of my head when I'm busy working on something else."

He seemed to frown, or so Lark guessed, she couldn't see his face. "No thanks to_ you_, with that penetrating humming…" he muttered, dipping his quill in the ink.

_Penetrating?_

Lark tried to walk away, go back to her room, but something still caught her. She turned around and stared at his mask, willing it to come off on its own… No, she should leave him alone…but. Curse her feet! She found herself walking closer to him, her legs ignoring her frantic calls from her brain. 'No, turn _away _Lark!' she commanded herself, her body gave no heed. A hand came out, she hoped it would stay there, no; it got closer to his shoulder. Near his head now, no, no, no. 'Don't do it, hand.' Lark found herself pleading silently.

Erik didn't have time to react to a small hand reaching out in the corner of his vision. He could only stay still as a stone, his mind numbly repeating oh no, oh _**no.**_ He gave out a cry as it snatched off his mask, as suddenly as it had come.

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**Updated. XD**

**don't you hate it when there are these times in real life? where no one can move? ****Don't murder me either! The next chappy is only what i thought his reaction would be**


	16. Chapter 16

**I can never really say if i got this right. Sometimes i say yes, and then i say no. **

**_DISCLAIMER: _I do not own Erik or anything else Phantom. (tears) **

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_# Part Sixteen:_

One of his hands snapped up to his unmasked face, the other hand shooting out, shoving Lark hard to the ground; but not before she got to see his deformed face. Twisted and hideous with no nose and malformed lips, Lark only saw a part of the horrific thing that made up his features. She fell hard on the stone floor giving out a cry as her leg hit the cold ground hard, something clattering to the floor from her shirt. "DEMON!" he yelled, keeping a hand firmly over the middle of his face. She cringed away from him as he started towards her, the hatred seemingly burning from him.

His eyes burned a in a gold fire as he hissed at her, "You little monster, why did you want to see _this_??" She only stared at him in a numb surprise. His fury grew, as he lashed out at her, Lark drawing back fearfully. "_Curse_ you!" he shouted, "_Damn_ you! Damn your curiosity! _Damn it_!!" He stormed around, knocking down things that stood in his way, seeming to be going completely mad. Lark could only watch him unmoving, unfeeling.

This is what he was hiding…a deformity.

"I—I'm sorry…" she whispered. That seemed to hit him in the back, he stopped dead. A shock went through him as all control on himself was lost. Turning on her with a blind fury, his hands wrapped around her neck as she gave out a startled cry but then… Erik seemed to have been hit with a thought. Another face looked back at him instead of Lark's, a familiar woman's frightened face…

He let out a pained moan. Letting go of her throat he stumbled away, sinking to his knees only once he was far away from the girl and put his head in his hands; scrunching himself up. She crawled over to him, wincing as she bumped her bruised leg, and drew near to him. On hearing her approach, Erik's hands fully covered his face, hiding it from view.

His voice came out soft and filled with some deep hurt Lark couldn't even compare to. "Leave me alone…" he said numbly, "Go back to where you belong, don't come back, either…" She touched his shoulder but he moved away from her, waving a hand back at her to leave. "Please…" she said softly. "GO AWAY!" he shouted suddenly, shoving her away but not as harshly as he had done before. The girl just stayed where she had fallen, watching him.

Lark didn't notice the tears that streaked down her own face. Biting her lip she reached out with both her hands. Clasping them on each side of his face she turned him toward her. Erik didn't pull away, only stared back at her with a dull sense of surprise as she looked fully at his deformed, twisted, hideous features barely able to be called 'human'. "I'm not scared…" she told him confidently.

Smiling sadly, she traced from the top of the forehead, careful to avoid the gaping hole that served for his nose, down to the malformed, almost unidentifiable lips gently with her fingers. He wouldn't look at her as he tried to take his head away with long, skeletal hands grasping at her arms. Lark only held his face more firmly between her hands for a moment longer, and then released him. Erik turned away, groping for his mask that she had taken off. As he placed it firmly back on, Lark sat up and looked down at her hands. "I am sorry…about everything." She whispered to his turned back, "I've been nothing but trouble to you and…and everyone else."

Erik glanced back at her once, his face unreadable behind the mask. She stared at her hands, "Why does everyone want me to go away?" she asked her open palms sadly. He watched her warily as the girl got up and walked toward him again. Lark could see that his eyes kept on her were filled with suspicion but she couldn't blame him for that; she betrayed what little trust he had in her to leave him alone.

"Why does everyone I know…push me away?" she asked, tears refilling her eyes. "When Mama was…was sick or really sad she'd go in her room, and push me away when I wanted to help." Erik stood up but didn't make any other movement anywhere else as he stared at her, face and eyes expressionless, but listening. Lark wasn't talking anymore though, she just stood there. Finally breaking the silence Erik said, "I'll take you back up, now."

Erik turned around and started to head out of the house, leading them down the corridor that would end at the mirror. Turning to face her only to motion that she should follow, Erik led the way. Lark walked behind him through the tunnel, wiping her eyes and remaining uncharacteristically silent. "You are not to come back down, understand?" he said, opening the mirror door. The girl looked up at him one final time before nodding and walking out into the room. He hesitated by the opening. "I'm sorry." He said, and then closed the mirror.

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**Updated. XD**

**so what do you think?**


	17. Chapter 17

**Ever wonder what our little Lark is carrying most of the time?**

**well i wonder that too!**

**Enjoy chapter 17 **

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_Part Seventeen:_

Lark stared at the mirror, wishing it would open, but it remained quiet and unmoving. Blinking back tears, she walked out the room, feet dragging slightly against the floors of the hall. Erik had said…sorry? Why was he sorry? Not many people were to Lark, it surprised her when he said so. He had looked surprised himself when he said it now that she thought about it.

But I'm the one who should be the one saying sorry, Lark thought, but I just complained to him. She was surprised to find herself at her room's door so quickly, walking and thinking deeply did seem to pass time by. Wiping her eyes free of tears, Lark flumped on the bed, exhausted. Staring at the wood beams above her she laid thinking about what had just currently happened. So Erik was like Mama had been….a deformation keeping them away from the real world and the ones they loved. But then a thought struck her like lightning…_Mama_.

She sat up quickly in her bed and stifled a scream, Mama, where was Mama? Leaping up, the girl began frantically patting her shirt, nothing. Another stifled scream was given from her lips as she tore through her bed searching with eyes like a hawk. "Oh no," she whispered hysterically, "oh no, no, _no_, **no**!" Sobs shook her shoulders as she tore through her wardrobe, her desk, scattering items as she looked frantically for Mama. Nothing, she found nothing wherever she looked, panic started to settle deep into her chest as she gave out a frantic moan.

A knock came at her door. "Lark..?" Meg's voice pierced through the air. Lark ignored her, still throwing things aside as she pushed past clothing, trying not to let the panic consume her. She _must_ find Mama! Meg's voice became more pronounced, "Lark, I'm coming in." The door creaked open but still the young girl rifled feverishly through her things. Meg's eyes widened as she looked around the now trashed room. "What on Earth…! What did you do, Lark? Looks like a hurricane came through here!"

Lark whipped around, her eyes wild and burning with a sort of panic, Meg took a step back. "Are you okay?" Meg asked concerned, walking over to the girl placing a hand on her forehead. Lark brushed her off and threw herself at the pile she was searching through before Meg came in, her hands digging into it frantically fast. This girl is ill again, Meg decided. Striding over to her, the woman tried to haul the child to her feet but Lark gave out a cry and tried to pull away.

"Lark, Lark, you're ill. You're not well, let me help you." Meg coaxed taking the girl's hand and holding it firm. Lark tried to wriggle free, still clawing at the pile she was searching but Meg made sure she couldn't pull free. "Give me an answer, Lark, or I won't let go."

Lark shook her head, "I must find…find it." She said, tugging her hand unsuccessfully at Meg's strong grip. Meg's voice came out clear and firm, "What are you looking for, Lark?" The girl shrugged helplessly, Meg could not know about Mama… She needed to give up, just for now, until Meg left her. Lark fell limp, stopping her frantic tugs and stood up without help. "It's…it's nothing," she fibbed, brushing her hair back from her flushed face, "I was just looking for…well, and I'm okay now. I'm fine, sorry for making you worry." She bowed to Meg who looked her over her, her brow still furrowed. "Are you sure?" she asked, feeling the girl's forehead again.

Lark brushed her hand away and begun to pick up the clothes that lay scattered around the room. "I'm fine, Meg. _Really._" She added, noticing Meg's worried and clearly unconvinced face. "I'll just clean this all up, but perhaps I'll go to bed early, I have been feeling a little…a little tired." Meg nodded, not fully convinced but left Lark's room shutting the door quietly behind her. There must be something troubling her, Meg thought, but if she doesn't want help… She walked down the halls, vowing to herself to watch the child a bit more carefully. Must have been that bad tea…

As soon as the door closed, Lark threw herself on her bed and wept, she was so worried, where was Mama…? It hit her like a fist in the stomach, she stifled a wail.

Mama…Mama was at…was at…_Erik's_.

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**oh i wonder, wonder, wonder, wonder who? or what? is in the Wonder Ball!**


	18. Chapter 18

**(SQUEE!) it makes me sooo happy to have new reviews after a successful chappy! thank yous all sooo much!!!!**

**THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!!! **

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_Part Eighteen:_

Lark could only stare horrified at the ceiling at her discovery of where Mama was. "Oh no," she whispered helplessly, she had to get Mama, but, but didn't Erik say he didn't want her down there? She clutched her fists tight against her head, what could she do? She knew that Erik meant what he had said about her coming back down, but what about Mama? "What can I do? What can I do??" Lark demanded of her pillow, turning to it. Of course her pillow didn't answer, and she still didn't know what to do.

Lark threw the pillow across the room, the pillow making a soft '_wump'_ sound as it hit the floor. She sat up and drearily started to clean up the large overwhelming mess she had made while frantically searching for Mama. She bit her lip as she shoved most of clothes into the wardrobe, should she go down and get Mama? Yes, Lark decided, she needed her; she was depending on Lark to take care of things. Looking around the girl decided that the room as at least _acceptable_ in a scattered sort of way.

It will only be a short trip; Lark told herself, trying to convince her of the safety…and was failing miserably to do so. Straightening her shoulders, the girl begun to walk out of her room determinedly but as she creaked open the door, she found herself face to face with an inky darkness. "Oh..." she said blearily, it was late, too late fore anyone to come out wandering around a closed Opera house. Lark glanced at a clock in the corner of the hall, past midnight. There was no going for Mama right now, she sighed, and Lark would have to wait until tomorrow.

_I'm sorry, Mama._

"Hey..! You're missing that spot, boy!" a creaky voice cut through the air, Lark jumped and looked down, surprised. She was washing the same piece of ground over and over all the while missing a particularly dirty spot. Lark looked up at the crabby old woman who was in charge of the Opera's cleaning. Lark nodded wearily, she had tossed and turned all night, thinking about Mama, and how she was going to get her back. Wringing out the mop, the young girl rubbed the floor harder to remove the spot. Scrubbing hard, Lark didn't notice one of the stage hand's assistant boys was watching her closely with a dark sneer crossed on his pointed face.

Lark wiped her face as she put away her cleaning equipment, there had been a lot to do that day, and she didn't even have time to have lunch let alone go after Mama. Her stomach rumbled hungrily as she walked down the hallways. Suddenly, a rope swung down and a figure landed in front of her with a heavy thud. "Hey, aren't you the _boy_ who works for the cleaning group?" a young man loomed over her with a smirk plastered on his pointed face. She recognized him as one of the assistants of the stage hand, was he Robert…? Yes, that was him, Robert Louise, a nasty person with a sharp tongue and a strong like for spirits.

Lark didn't like the way he improvised 'boy', or the way she could smell spirits on his breath; she must be cautious around this person. "Yes," she answered, making sure her voice was lowered, "you need help with anything…?" He leered at her, his eyes blazing in a fire she didn't like. "Sure," his voice was slurred, Lark became edgy, "so tell me, what are you? Boy? I don't think so. You must be a pretty lady friend." He made a snatch at her but she danced away from him. "You're not well, Mousier Louise," she said slowly backing away from him. He grinned and grabbed at her but she jumped out of his reach.

"Come on, love," he coaxed coming towards the frightened girl, "I knew you were a girl, you're too pretty to hide it." He lunged suddenly; Lark gave out a cry as he nearly grabbed her and took off in the other direction. He was drunk! She could hear him coming after her, panting like a wolf in a hunt. Lark couldn't find anyone, glancing behind her she could see that he was catching up. "Oh, someone, help…" she whispered under her breath. They continued to run down the halls, the man's hot breath nearly breathing down her neck as he started to get closer. As he got up closer, he nearly caught her collar before she did a sharp turn up the stairs leading to the rafters over the stage.

"Come here, my love!" he called after her, causing the hairs on the nape of Lark's neck to stand up. She gasped out loud as a hand encircled her wrist; she was roughly spun around to face Mousier Louise's ruddy face. "There you are, my pet," He cooed. Lark gave out a cry and pushed him away with all her strength, catching him off guard. She fell to her knees as he released her. He gave out a yell as he tumbled back, hitting the edge of the rope that was the hand rail of the boards held above the stage far below. He tethered back a bit, and then fell giving a bloodcurdling scream as he tumbled through the air and hitting the stage, with a sickening thud.

Lark wept with a mixture of fright and relief, and, peering over the side, she could only stare with horror at his unmoving body below. He hand clamped to her mouth, she felt sick as she watched his blood gathering around him in a small pool of red. "What have I done?" she whispered, putting her head in her hands.

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**Don't worry, i wasn't going to let anything happen to Lark, stupid guy. i was glad he died! DIE! oh wait, duh, im the authoress. **


	19. Chapter 19

**i couldn't leave you all hanging, I myself hate cliffhangers. **

**i mean, it was like, 'JUST GET WITH THE NEXT CHAPTER, DANG IT!' sheesh**

**so that's why im posting sooo soon after the last one! ****

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**_# Part Nineteen:_**

Lark was still shaking and crying as she sat on the wood board that held her above the stage. People had started to gather below, staring at the man's now dead body. Murmurings came up to her ears but the girl clamped her hands over her ears, moaning pitifully. What could she do? She had juts killed a man, now what could she do? The stage master had come into the crowd, pushing past and stared in horror. "Who did this?" he demanded angrily, his voice shaking. People looked at each other, bemused but one pointed to where Lark was.

"He did!" the person cried out, "I saw him shove 'ol Louise off the side! I saw them racing up there," the boy who spoke looked darkly up at Lark who's jaw dropped in stunned surprise, "she probably stole something from him to egg him on!" Shocked mutterings went through as the crowd stared at her with deep distrust and a growing hatred. Lark stood up, bracing herself on the ropes and shook her head frantically. "No!" she cried, "No, I didn't!"

"Why should we believe a child?" another person shouted. Roars of approval came to Lark's ears. She couldn't believe what she was hearing; they thought she was a killer! But you are one, said a nasty little voice in her head, you killed that poor man when you could have…But the girl had shut her mind off. The crowd had gotten larger, and more threatening. "We should take him to the police," shouted a few. Roars of approval rocked the board where Lark was standing, she shuddered with horror.

The crowd had agreed, but one gave a shout of alarm as they glanced up. "He's gone!" one shouted. Lark had snuck down as the crowd had discussed what to do with the 'murderer' her heart pounding hard against her ribs. Rushing along the halls, she stifled a terrified shriek as she heard people pouring into the halls after her. 'They're after me!' she thought hurtling down the halls. The angry voices had gotten louder but Lark was sure that they weren't….

"Hey..! There he is!" a stagehand assistant cried out, pointing Lark out. She gasped out loud and ran quickly in the other direction, the pounding of feet getting louder and louder behind her. _Like the fox being hunted down by the hunters…then coming after Mama… _Rushing down the hall, Lark looked wildly for a place to hide. "Where to hide? Where can I hide?" she whispered hoarsely. She stopped and listened hard, they were coming closer! Feeling faint, Lark reached behind her and was surprised to find a door.

Without looking where it led to, the girl yanked the door open and closed it quietly behind her, breathless. Taking a deep breath, Lark was able to look around her in surprise. Somehow, her frantic search had led her to the very place she had planned to go to before these unfortunate events, the dressing room. She could hear voices out in the halls. Gasping, Lark ran toward the mirror racing up to meet her image, a frightened thin girl. "Oh…" Looking at herself, she could see why she no longer could be mistaken for a boy, she had matured.

"Damn," she cursed for the first time, feeling for the opening of the mirror. She gave a small cry as it gave way, sending her sprawling on the cold stone floor. She let no time go past as she jumped up and closed it firmly and waited with baited breath. Sure enough the door opened and people swarmed in it, all crying out, and 'search everywhere!' 'Don't lose him!' 'We'll find that murderer', Lark shuddered. Finally she turned away from the search party and felt her way down the dark passageway, her breath lifting into little white puffs.

Erik had been out on the roof, sketching a newly carved corner of the Opera (it had gotten remodeled after the new manager took charge, but it was a handsome piece of work so Erik remained silent) and he was surprised to find himself looking down at a curious mass of people as he descended. What were they looking at anyways? Crossing silently in the rafters above, Erik managed to glimpse a stretcher being carried out, a limp arm hanging out of the sheet that covered it. 'Someone's dead?' Erik wondered to himself. He shook his head disdainfully, he better not be blamed for this. Becoming the Phantom of the Opera was not on his to do list. Actually, there wasn't much at all on his to do list.

Crawling down a rope and keeping to the shadows, Erik traced down the new manager who was whispering to another man in quiet, hushed voice. "Yes, you see, poor old Louis was murdered," explained the manager, looking over his shoulder as though looking for eavesdroppers. Erik almost smiled, he could never be seen. "Who was it?" asked the other man, horrified. Erik listened closely, curious about the event. The manager shook his head solemnly as he turned back to his companion, "Very terrible, terrible indeed, you see, it was none other than that young boy. Lark was it?"

Erik was surprised, but the manager wasn't finished. "You see," he continued seriously, "they say that that boy had stolen something from Louise and, naturally, he gave chase after him. Followed him up to the rafters and didn't see the boy hiding apparently, because after that, he was _pushed_ off the rafter!" The other man winced and the manager added, "They say that the boy has fled, they got the police looking for him in the shops nearby…" The two men walked away, muttering to each other and shaking their heads unaware of the hidden phantom who stood stunned. It couldn't have been Lark; she was too scatter-brained, too young to have accomplished something like this.

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**Updated. XD**

**When it says, 'she had matured' it means that she grew more. (cough cough) All ladies have to some time or another!**


	20. Chapter 20

**This one i had to change BIG time. But I'm happy that i did. (nod nod)**

**_DISCLAIMER: _I don't own anything of the wonderful works of Phantom. **

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_Part Twenty:_

"An Opera, I had to live in an Opera..." Erik grumbled as he disappeared into the shadows. He made his way towards Christi- no, no, the dressing room. Opening the door he was annoyed to see that the mob from before had searched through here as well. Of course, they had to find that girl, Lark. Erik didn't really know what he thought about all of that. He pushed it out of his mind, but, looking around the room he was surprised to find that he would miss the scatter-brained child. Amazing how one could get used to someone coming in and out of hallways humming anonymous, not to mention bloody _penetrating_, songs.

Erik opened the mirror and was extra careful to make sure it was securely closed, someone could search the room and he couldn't have anymore random visitors. His trip back was normal, nothing had seemed to change. Erik shook his head, imagine, a young girl like that, Lark, a murderer? Surely it wasn't true; she couldn't have done something such as murder. He didn't feel like going inside the house, but he might as well. "What do I know?" he asked himself out loud, entering the Louise Philippe room.

"Probably what I need to know!"

He turned sharply towards the voice that rang out; it was Madame Giry, who was standing behind the table. Interesting, she avoided Erik as much as possible these days and now here she was inside his own house. "What an unpleasant surprise." He said evenly, eyebrows rising to meet his surprise, "Madame Giry comes to visit poor Erik. Interesting, interesting, as you can see I don't usually have guests." He gestured around at the mess of papers growing around the room. Madame Giry scowled at him, "This is no time for chitchat, Erik," she said seriously, "did you hear about Monsieur Louise's murder?" Erik inspected his nails unconcerned, "I might have heard something, yes. Did that disgusting man finally kick the bucket?" Without offering Madame Giry a seat, Erik made himself comfortable in one of the chairs. "I was starting to get annoyed with that stupid man." He traced a pattern on the table's smooth surface. Madame Giry made an exasperated noise, he looked up. "Erik," she started, "did you have anything to do with this?"

Erik's eyes flashed but he kept his temper down, barely. "Of course not!" he snapped, "Jump right to conclusions, haven't you? Typical of people. You seriously doubt that someone _else _might have wanted to kill him?" Madame Giry stepped back a few steps, keeping the table in between her and Erik, but her shoulders drooped. "That's what I'm afraid of." She said. She took out a handkerchief, "They say that Lark had stolen something of that man's and he chased her and…and…" Erik finished her sentence, "and they think she pushed him off the rafters." Madame Giry blew her nose loudly. "I didn't do it, Madame," he told her scowling. "Yes," she said, "Yes I know that now, but what I'm wondering, Erik, is…are you hiding her?"

He stood up to his full height as his chair fell backwards, this was going too far. "I?" he thundered, "I hide someone down here? Of _course _not! Nobody comes down here!" Madame Giry looked positively stricken, "You could have hidden her down here…you have enough rooms..." Erik didn't let her finish. "Get out!" he yelled, pointing to the door. "But…" She started, looking abashed. "OUT!" he bellowed. Madame Giry took a step backward then left, almost running down the dark halls and exiting the dangerous house. Loud, heavy breathing filled the room as Erik stood there eyes ablaze. Turning from the door in disgust, he stalked outside the Louise Philippe room, muttering and cursing angrily under his breath.

Erik strode into the dusty kitchen, why he had it built in here he couldn't remember, he never ate. Stupid really, but you couldn't have a house without a kitchen. Opening a cupboard, he took a bottle down from one of the shelves. He shook it experimentally; empty. He cursed and reached for another, also empty. "Damn," he muttered, sweeping his hair away from his forehead. Typical that all the wine and morphine was gone right when he needed something to calm him down. About to sit down at a spindly chair he leapt back up when a small clatter echoed from one of the lower cabinets.

His eyes narrowed, probably a rodent. But, he listened and the small clatter came again and it was too big for a rodent. He took a step toward the cabinets and bent down. Putting his hands on the handles, he opened them. There nearly hidden in a pile of empty, dusty bottles was none other than Lark. She looked up at him with a tear-stained and smudged face, her eyes large, frightened, and despairing. "Are they gone?" she whispered her voice trembling.

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**Updated. XD**

**you know what helps me type? music!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Ahhh, the holidays are coming up, arn't they? Lovely.**

**Though i still don't know what i want...anyways, here's the next chappy!! **

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_Part Twenty-one:_

Erik stumbled back with a cry, how long was she in there? Her head was down again, one of her hands clutching a dusty bottle that had given her hideout away. She was trembling, not with cold, but with fright. Erik seized her hand and pulled her out, the bottles clattering noisily on the hard floor. Pulling her up to her feet, Erik made her face him. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, shaking her a little, she had scared him. Lark's head flopped back and forth slightly, the girl not even trying to stop it. She murmured something under her breath. "What?" he asked, leaning forward. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she repeated herself, this time he could here, "They're after me…"

"After you?" Erik knew he should have bought more morphine sooner, now he had a headache. "Why?" She looked up at him with such lifeless eyes it sent chills down Erik's spine; it was like the Lark he knew was gone. "I…I'm a…" Lark stammered. Erik waited, almost patiently. She looked down and whispered to the floor, "a murderer…" She broke down, almost literally, with an aching sob sinking to her knees at Erik's feet. He started to draw back, but looked down at the girl wailing her heart out. 'This isn't her.' He thought, 'This isn't the way she's supposed to be.'

He sighed and kneeled down to her level, seeing the colors of her tear spilling eyes, a sea-green with a deep blue ring around them. "Hey," he whispered, she looked at him, "tell me what happened." She shoulders shook up and down as she shook her own head frantically. "Come on, now. Tell me what happened, it will help." Erik said gently, very out of his normal character. "No…I…can't…" she whispered. Erik made a noise of scorn and could only respond with logic. "Who am I going to tell?" He looked around at the house, "the walls?" A small noise that could have been a laugh came from in-between her newly forming hiccups.

"That's better," he said, getting up and helping Lark to her feet and over to a chair. Pushing her into it, Erik settled in a chair himself. "Let's hear it," he said leaning back. The girl wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly to calm herself. "I was coming back from cleaning work…" She then told Erik all that had really happened, she hadn't stole anything from the man, he had been drunk and had chased her In act of self-defense, she had pushed him and, loosing his balance, Louise had fallen off the rafter. "That's what happened, but I didn't kill him on purpose!" Lark said hurriedly, "I swear!" Erik still sat listening; his face or the side she could see was expressionless.

"You don't believe me, do you?" Lark cried out, panicked. She started to jump up but he pulled her back down to her seat. "I believe you," Erik said, "I just don't believe the crowds didn't believe you. Didn't you tell them you side?" She shook her head sadly, "They wouldn't listen to me…" Her face was solemn as she thought of what they said. '_Why should we believe a child?_' She swallowed hard, the thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. "They didn't _want_ to hear." Looking up Lark thought she heard Erik mumble something about 'had to live in an Opera,' under his breath. They didn't say anything more and neither was willing to strike up another topic. Lark looked at her arms and clothing, the bottles she was hiding with sure had gotten her dusty, looked like a phantom herself.

Finally Erik sighed and got up from his chair and went to the cupboards overflowing with bottles. Picking up one at a time he shook them, then grumbling placed them behind him when it was declared empty. Lark watched him curiously, and then looked at the bottle she still had clutched in her grip. The girl shook it, listening, and an unidentified liquid inside sloshed around. There was a minute's pause of Lark looking back and forth from the bottle to Erik, and of his grumblings of, "No, empty, empty, _damn_ headache, empty…" She blinked and looked at the bottle for a label, turning it over in her hands, there was none. Getting up slowly from her chair, Lark meandered over to where Erik was searching.

"Um…Erik…?" she asked, touching his arm lightly. He gave a small cry and spun around and stared at her like he never saw the girl before. Recognition filled his eyes as he blinked at her. "What?" Looking at the bottle she placed it on the counter near the cabinets he had been searching through moments before. They both looked at it before he looked at her suspiciously and grabbed it. Lark managed a small grin which was returned for a scowl from Erik. Sensing he wanted to be alone, Lark started to scoot out of the room, Erik watching her as she left. "I'm going to go to…err…that one room?" she called over her shoulder.

"Your room, not 'that one room,'" he corrected. Lark turned to him with surprise. "Does that mean…?" she asked breathlessly, hardly daring to believe it. He waved her away, pouring some of the liquid in a glass from the bottle she left. "Yes, yes, you're staying here. Now, go away, please for I have a huge headache I would like to get rid of without your help. Thank you very much."

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**Poor Erik, lol!**


	22. Chapter 22

**I always had readers asking me what exactly happened to Lark. Well, now you'll know at least a fragment...**

**_DISCLAIMER: _Not the owner of The Phantom of the Opera. **

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_# Part Twenty-two:_

Lark squealed her delight and raced over to Erik and hugged him from behind. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" she said excitedly, clinging to him tightly. He looked back at her over his shoulder with a wry smile. "Where else will you go?" he asked, "Besides, it would rest on my conscience if I left you to fend for yourself." Erik placed down his full glass and tried to pry her arms off around his middle. "Now, can you let me go?" Lark blinked up at him then opened her mouth into a silent O of surprise. "Oh! Yes, sorry, Erik…" she released him and almost skipped out of the kitchen. He groaned inwardly, if only he moved out of the Opera house sooner. Now he was stuck with a scatter-brained child. 'Well at least I won't be bored.' He thought to himself, rolling his eyes and draining his glass at the same time.

Lark was so happy, surprising herself after just being so sad, that she felt she could sing! Well, if she really felt like it. But, she sighed, the girl still felt remorseful, there was no avoiding it; she would have to sing that man's requiem. "I'll do it tomorrow," she said out loud, Lark didn't like singing her family's song. Walking to the room, her room, Lark had to past through the organ's resting place; Erik's room. It was rather dark, but Lark could see the large organ perfectly. It took a bit to avoid all the music papers, instruments, and goodness knows what else before Lark was able to reach the other side. She shook her head and smiled, perhaps she would clean it for Erik later; he certainly didn't care about the mess himself. She was about to head for her room when a dark shape near the foot of the organ caught her eye.

Gasping, she kneeled and picked up, gasped again and hugged it tight. "Ooh, Mama, Mama, I thought I lost you!" she sighed happily, holding it close. A few tears trickled out of Lark's eyes, "I missed you…" Standing and holding the black item close, she brushed her tears away and let herself into the room, her room. A sigh of relief spread through her as she gently placed Mama on her pillow. Letting herself in another door, Lark found a beautiful bathroom with hot and cold running water. Looking down at her dusty self she bent near the bath and turned on the water, letting it fill.

It felt good to get all the dust and grime off. Lark sighed happily and sank deeper in the warm water and bubbles. Looking around, the girl had found a wardrobe filled with dresses and other clothing close to her size and in good condition. A light, blue silk sleeping gown lay on a chair close to the bath, a fluffy towel draped over it. It would feel good to be safe and sound again. Rising off for the last time, Lark donned the sleeping gown and curled up into the bed snuggling deep into the covers. Gently the girl covered up the black shape on her other pillow and fell asleep and dreamt.

**Lark's Dream:**

"_Mama? Mama!" _

_A young girl with long dirty-blonde hair raced down the blackened hill, her face streaked with the remaining smears of soot. The fire had been large, Mama was afraid of fire. Why did the town come after them? Tears poured down her face, why couldn't they just leave them alone?_

"_Mama, where are you??" She called, panicked._

_The house was completely gone, charred clumps of wood was all that remained of the once standing white house. Lark dug viciously through the piles of ash, her dress was torn and singed but that didn't matter._

"_Mama, answer me! Mama, where are you?" She sobbed, running around the burnt lot. _

_She gasped as she came across a place in the soot where it looked like something was dragging itself away. _

_"Mama…"She whispered, following the path._

_There were dark stains in the soot, and it sometimes pooled around, like the person or thing had rested and its blood had come out of a wound of some sort. The girl quickened her pace, then resulted to sprinting down the trail. It led near the river by the village. The trail had gotten smaller, Mama must have gotten to her feet at last. Nearing the bank, the girl came up to a blackened, scorched, and slightly smoking figure draped clumsily in a cloak._

_"Mama!" Lark shrieked._

_She ran over and collapsed to her knees next the figure, turning it over. A masked face looked back up at her, the eyes behind it closed. Lark hurriedly grabbed her mother's wrist, smoothing the dark brown curls away from her masked face. _

_"Mama, I'm here. Can you hear me? It's Lark, Mama!" The girl wailed, shaking the woman's pale hand. Lark looked at her mother's mask and hesitated, she wasn't allowed to touch it or remove it. But…Mama would be able to breathe better with it off. Reaching for the black mask, she felt her mother stir beneath her._

_"L-Lark?" a feeble voice asked, barely more than a whisper. _

_Lark burst into tears, everything was going to be fine, and Mama was okay. Her mother shushed her gently, stroking her daughter's tangled hair lovingly; Lark wrapped her thin mother into a hug, shaking and crying. _

_"Oh my baby, my baby, you look so much like your Papa," her mother crooned, catching Lark's hand in her other and holding it._

_The girl looked up, her eyes wide, Mama never talked like this. Peering into her mother's eyes it was like she was seeing…then not seeing at the same time. It scared her._

"_Are you okay, Mama?" Lark hiccupped, "I was so wor-worried, and the house is gone…" _

_The thin, pale hand continued to stroke her hair. The woman coughed slightly but gave her small daughter an encouraging squeeze of the hand. _

_"Don't worry, my baby," she said watching Lark cry with a mixture of relief and fear. "I'll still look after you… in heaven."_

_Lark gasped and clung tighter to her mother's hand._

"_W-what do you mean, Mama? You're going to get better!" She barely noticed her tears, "You'll get better, like the last time, and we'll be together and…and…everything will be okay!"_

"_Lark, my baby, my sweet baby, I'm dying. I'm not going to get better."_

"_NO! You can't leave me!! Mama, don't leave me!!"_

_The hand holding Lark's loosened. Tears where coming down the child's faces._

_"Oh baby, my sweet little girl, my Lark." She smiled up at Lark, "You always looked so much like you Papa. I'll miss you…"_

_With a sigh, her mother became motionless, and her hand slipped out of her child's as she breathed her last._

_"Mama?" Lark whispered, "Mama??" She placed her head on her mother's unmoving chest near her silent heart and sobbed._

"_Come back…don't leave me here!" She cried harder. "Don't leave me here…" she whispered. _

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**Updated. XD**

**Poor Lark, she's such a sweet character. I admit, I cryed a little when I was writing this chapter...**


	23. Chapter 23

**I have not read that story, but perhaps it will find its way on my Christmas list! XD**

**Thank you ALL for reveiwing! it really helps! **

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_Part Twenty-three:_

Lark awoke with a wail, "Mama!" Looking around frantically, she only saw darkness. 'I'm alone,' she thought with horrified realization, resting her head on her knees, 'I'm alone…'

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Erik was working at the organ again, thankfully his headache had cleared after an hour and the girl was asleep. He blessed the silence as he worked; it was much easier to concentrate without anyone around. He scratched his head with his quill then added a few notes and hummed it under his breath. Yes, it sounded correct, and it flowed nicely, he smiled slightly and added them to the growing piece. It's an excellent piece; he complimented himself brushing off a bit of dirt that lingered at the paper's corner. The door behind him gave a creak, Erik turned around, bewildered. There was Lark in a sleeping gown, tears running down her face. Before he could say anything she was running over and wrapping her arms around his middle, putting her head on his shoulder and gave a lonely wail. Shocked, he could only sit there, feeling awkward. 

Lark didn't care how she was acting; she couldn't be alone…not now. She cried into his cloak like she did in her mother's arms so long ago when she was little. Erik stared ahead, letting her cry on his shoulder. He didn't do anything because he didn't really know what to do in this sort of situation, so as a conference, he sat still. "I'm sorry!" she wailed, "I'm so sorry!" Now Erik was confused. He let her sit on the organ bench beside him, though she didn't let him go. "What's wrong?" he asked, still confused by her behavior. She shook her head hugged him tighter, as if she was afraid he would disappear.

"Can…Can I stay here for awhile?" she whispered, "I can't be alone…not right now. I'll be really quiet, I promise!" Erik sighed; perhaps he would never finish his work. "If you can be quiet." He said sternly, prying her arms off him gently. She nodded and moved to another chair; sinking into it she drew up her knees and hugged them close. Erik turned back to his work and all that could be heard was the scratching of his quill and Lark's soft breathing. After awhile, Lark got up. "Thank you," she whispered, and she left back to her room. Erik looked up and watched her leave the room with a calmed air around her unlike the overwhelming sorrowful loneliness she had brought with her before.

"What is wrong with that girl?" he sighed to himself, adding another chord.

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Lark had slept much more peacefully after staying with Erik. Just being in a room with someone else had calmed her panicked terror of being alone. She awoke hours later and sighed a breath of relief, it was light in the room. Getting up she walked cheerfully to the wardrobe and tried to open it, no luck it wasn't budging. "Hey..!" she said startled, it worked yesterday. Hiking a foot up, she tugged relentlessly until she felt it giving way. "Uh oh…" she said, it opened, "WAHH!" She cried out. It all collapsed on her, burying her in a mound of clothing. A door opened. Lark pushed her head up through the pile, though the rest of her was unmovable in the large mess that trapped her limbs. 

"Well. This is unexpected," Erik said coolly, walking past her. She watched him stroll by and open another door, and disappeared into it. She stuck out her tongue at the door he had gone in. Struggling, the girl managed to pry her arms out and then with their help, pull the rest of her out. The mess that her error had made was enormous; she turned to the black mask resting on her pillow. "Why does this always happen to me, Mama?" she complained, picking up the first outfit she found and stalked to the bathroom, only to come back, blushing, and place the dancing outfit away and grabbed a green dress.

She had a requiem to do.

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**Sorry it's soo short, the next one will be longer, i think. XD**

**hopefully you all know what a requiem is, if not, then ask:)**


	24. Chapter 24

**I got a reveiw saying that i should make this story longer. Well let me say this, if i did, it would take up the size of a small book! XD**

**Don't worry, i'm not going to be done for a long, long time. :) there are so many things i still have to write and add, no, don't worry. This story will last longer! you have the authoress's word on it! XD **

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_Part Twenty-four:_

Erik was irritated. No, scratch that, he was furious. The girl had disappeared, again, to God only knows where. He stalked around the lair first, searching. This is what he got for taking in a girl, endless trouble and worrying. He hated that. It was so much easier before when everyone left him alone and his rein as 'Phantom' ended. "Where could she be?" he muttered to himself, exiting the glass mirror to the Opera's dim hallways, she wasn't anywhere in the lair much to his irritation. It was still dark, and not many people were out so it was very simple for Erik to roam around without a worry about someone seeing him.

"I'm going to Punjab that girl." He murmured darkly after searching for about a half an hour. "Once I get my hands on her scrawny little neck…" He made a violent gesture in midair. He stopped his miming of what he would do to Lark if he caught her to listen hard, he though he heard something. Erik stood still as a marble statue, yes, he could here something! It was coming from the stage, but Erik was cautious so he went the back way where the performers would enter the stage in a play. Moving silently, he could hear the sound more distinctly, it sounded like someone was…singing?

Without a sound, Erik was right behind a pillar on the stage, he peered out; and felt his own eyes widen with disbelief. Yes it was Lark alright; there was no doubt about it. But… it was also Lark who was singing.

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Lark was singing softly, the song her mother wrote, for a requiem. Mama had told them, her siblings and Lark, that they could sing it whenever someone 'left', it didn't matter who. Her voice was soft and light, almost like velvet, but it was also a little rough; like she hadn't used her voice for such a purpose in a very long time. Lark sang softly, eyes closed, to the rafters and heavens above:

_You lie sudden there before me_

_Your tears meaning nothing to me_

_The wind, howling at the windows_

_The love…you never gave_

_I give to you…_

_Really don't deserve it_

_But now, there's nothing you can do_

_So sleep in your only memory_

_Of me_

_My dearest mother…_

_Here's a lullaby to close your eyes_

_Goodbye…_

_It was always you that I despised._

_No I don't feel it, not for you to cry_

_Oh my…_

_Here's a lullaby to close your eyes…_

_Goodbye… _

_So insignificant, sleeping dormant deep inside of me_

_Are you hiding away lost under the sewers?_

_Or maybe flying high in the clouds…_

_Perhaps you're happy with out me_

_So many seeds have been sown in the field_

_And who could sprout up so blessedly if I am gone_

_I would have never felt sad at all_

_You will not hear me say… I'm sorry,_

_Where is the light?_

_Wonder if it's weeping somewhere…_

_Here's a lullaby to close your eyes…_

_Goodbye…_

_It was always you that I despised._

_No I don't feel it, not for you to cry, oh my,_

_Here's a lullaby to close your eyes…_

_Goodbye…_

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**Lark really is just a person for the piano, she won't sing much anymore in the story :)**


	25. Chapter 25

**Thank you ALL for reveiwing! it really helps! _

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_# Part Twenty-five:_

Lark smiled and nodded to herself, the man's requiem had been sung. "Not bad," she said quietly, "for not having sung that in three years." Laughing softly to herself, she looked around carefully in case someone was near the stage. She might look a bit different than before, but she wasn't taking any chances to have anyone see her and remember, 'the murderer'. Satisfied that no one was in the area, she turned around, and, not noticing the dark shadow behind the pillar, the girl picked up her skirts and walked off the stage.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Erik could only stand behind his pillar, shocked. Lark could sing, never before had the girl's voice hinted that she could suddenly burst into melody. If he could help her get in tune, a little adjusting of the shoulders and…no. He stopped himself, he would not teach music or sing again; look where it had gotten before. He was jerked out of his thoughts by a clatter backstage and a "WAHH!" of surprise. He stopped for a moment, tense, and then rolled his eyes; he recognized the yell. Walking quickly over to the direction of the cry, Erik found himself looking at Lark face to face. Well, to be more precise, her face was upside down.

"WAHH!"

"AAH!"

They both cried out, but Erik was the only one able to stumble back and look at what was really happening. He stared at the odd sight before him. "Well, this…" he couldn't put it into words, "interesting." Lark scowled at him the best she could. For what he saw was really a peculiar sight. Lark was suspended off the ground with a rope around both of her ankles with a bit of her dress caught in as well, which was the only good thing for it kept her dress from flipping over her. "How did this happen?" he asked incredulously, trying to reach for the rope around her feet; it was a bit too tall for him.

Lark managed a weak smile and she shrugged. "I don't know, but can you hurry?" she pressed her hands against her head, "all the blood is flowing to my head," she confessed wearily. Erik nodded and started to look for something to stand on. "I'm still wondering how you got into this…" he muttered to himself, finding a box. Lark looked at his face and was surprised, and pleased, to find a small hint of a smile; an awkward one, but a smile none the less was around his eyes. She liked his smile, even from upside down and she technically couldn't see his face anyways. She guessed that he was smiling behind the mask, because his eyes were crinkled at their corners and his eyes were warm. "You need to smile more," she told him. He looked at her, eyes wiped back to cold and distant. "What?" A shout of people made them turn around. The workers were coming in.

Erik glared at her and stepped quickly on the box he had found and begun to loosen the cord around her. "Um, wait I think I'm going to…" she started. But Erik already loosened it enough and she fell to the ground with a _thud._ "Ouch!" Lark moaned, but there was no time for apologies. Quickly he snatched her hand and pulled her to her feet. "Thanks," she said dizzily. Erik didn't answer but pulled her along the backend of the stage and behind a curtain. "What are we doing…?" He shushed her, clamping a hand over her mouth and motioning with his head out at a group of stagehands and dancers.

Lark nodded to show that she saw them, Erik's hand came off her mouth and he led her down the halls, glancing back continuously to make sure that no one was following them. Reaching the mirror room, Erik paused and turned to the girl but then went back to opening the door and striding silently to the mirror, opening it. He let her go in first, and, closing the mirror/door behind them grabbed her shoulders and shook them. "Don't _ever_ do that again!" he scolded fiercely, "Never go out without warning me!" Her eyes widened. "Oh, I thought I was forgetting something," she mused to herself. Erik sighed exasperated, releasing her shoulders. "Why do I bother?" he asked himself.

Lark watched Erik stalk down the dim hallway, back down to the house, muttering darkly under his breath. The girl was suddenly overcome with giggles as she raced after him. She didn't really know why, there wasn't anything to be laughing about but she had an unidentified feeling of happiness. Jogging up with him, Lark caught his hand and held it while pulling him gently forward down the halls laughing. Puzzlement came into Erik's eyes as he let the young girl led him behind her down the halls. Lark's face was beaming with happiness and her laugh was light and innocent as it echoed around the stone passageway.

She released his hand and he slowed down, watching her with confused eyes. "Chase me! Chase me!" she cried turning back to face him, smiling. Erik's head cocked sideways as he seemed frowned slightly. "Chase you?" he asked. She beamed at him, "Catch me, Erik!" Lark skipped ahead and turned back once to laugh at his bewildered expression that lay in his eyes. Erik seemed to frown more, eyes narrowing, but she stuck her tongue out at him and took off. And, even more strangely, Erik found himself chasing Lark around the catacombs. She was hard to keep up with, but he had a suspicion that the girl slowed for only a second to let him get closer, only to have her shriek excitedly as he almost caught her then they would run the same way all over again.

It was, Erik was surprised to find, fun.

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**Updated. XD**

**hopefully you all know what a requiem is, if not, then check the Reviews. A kind reader of mine had given the whole definition. (Thank you!)**


	26. Chapter 26

**Ahh, holidays. **

**_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Phantom of the Opera (though i really want to) **

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# Part Twenty-six: **_

Turning a corner, Erik grumbled to himself under his breath, he had lost sight of Lark. "Now where did she go?" he wondered aloud. He looked around him only to find stone walls and empty passageways instead of a girl. He moaned, 'Brilliant, now she disappeared, again.' He thought, scolding himself. "Found you!" a familiar voice echoed. Erik turned but apparently wasn't quick enough, for Lark seemed to come from the ceiling to land on him. She landed on his shoulders, forcing him to stumble, and she laughed loudly and wrapped her legs around his middle and hung onto his shoulders with her arms; like a piggyback ride to put it simply.

"That was fun!" she declared from his shoulders. He turned his head and glared at her. Lark just beamed at him. "Well someone had to get you out into the world," she explained, "you need something different in your day once in a while." She slipped down off Erik's shoulders and smiled at him and started walking back down to the lair like they were before. He stared at her, her innocent words affecting him more than Lark would have guessed. " 'Out into the world,' " he repeated quietly, still not moving. A small hand worked its way into his, he looked down. "Are you coming?" Lark asked, worried. He had worried her.

"Yes." Erik allowed himself to be led back down to his home, their home, with Lark's small hand holding his. He listened to her chatter about different things, not really listening, but looked up. "What?" It was her turn to make a face at him. "I said, 'can I try to clean the kitchen?' It's really, really dusty." She moaned at the memory. "All those empty, dusty, dirty shelves, rah." Erik seemed to raise his eyebrows, eyes glittering in amusement. They continued walking, this time both were lost in their own thoughts. Breaking the silence Erik mentioned quietly, "I did not know that you sang." It startled her. She turned to him, still walking with wide eyes. "Oh! You heard me?" He nodded and was surprised that she blushed. "That's so embarrassing," she muttered laughing, "I can't sing at all!"

His eyes frowned, "Yes you can, and I heard you." Lark shook her head, "No you don't understand," she said, "I can't sing anything else, not even a simple scale! It's just that one song that…that Mama made us perfect." They were both surprised that they found themselves back at the house so soon. Erik tried to say something again but Lark skipped away calling over her shoulder, "I'll be cleaning in the kitchen!" He scowled then sighed throwing his hands up. "I give up." He muttered before going to his own room. He _had_ to live in an Opera.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Lark had avoided Erik's questioning on purpose, she didn't like to sing that requiem and she knew she would have sung it again if Erik had asked. Coming into the kitchen she lighted a few more candles for light. Looking around she didn't really know where to start, everything was in need of cleaning. The girl wondered if there was any food around but, searching the cabinets, it seemed that he didn't eat much. "Doesn't he ever get hungry?" she asked herself. She decided to dust off everything, then get rid of all the empty bottles. Sighing determinedly, she got a few rags and began to wipe everything off.

As she was cleaning, her thoughts drifted, not really staying or worrying on one thing. It was amazing to think of how far she had come, staying at the Opera, working, seeing performances, meeting Erik, not bad for a twelve year old girl. A shock went through her, she had forgotten that her birthday had come and gone. She was no longer twelve, she was thirteen. Blinking, surprised, she could only say to herself, "Well, happy late birthday, Lark." Getting up, she decided to treat herself to a snack. Lark blinked again, surprised as she opened up everything only to find nothing.

She listened to the music that poured softly into the kitchen, Erik really was a wonderful composer, he would be angry if she bothered him now. Lark's stomach growled loudly, she sighed. "But then," she said aloud, "I'm going to be angry if I can't eat something…" She headed for the room where the music leaked out; again sometimes it would stop then start again, which meant he added whatever he played. Lark's forehead creased. "Hopefully, he won't be too angry…" she murmured, opening the door.

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**Updated. XD**

**Heehee! ooh Erik is a funny, funny person indeed! (get's Punjabbed)**


	27. Chapter 27

**Hello again! This is really wonderful that i have so many reveiws! Hopefully i won't get a swelled head!**

**Anyways, thanks to all my readers and their reviews.**

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# Part Twenty-seven: **_

He was focusing on everything and nothing. The music that poured from the organ, trapping Erik in his own world, was how it always was. Except, back _then_, he would usually join the music with singing. But now, he gritted his teeth and a crease formed on his masked forehead, he would sing no more. Look where it had gotten him before, no, there would be no more melodies from his voice anymore. The music stopped as he paused to write the chords down, his quill's scratching the only noise in the room, though if he listened hard enough, he could hear Lark clattering around in the kitchen. He was fine with that; it was getting a bit too dusty for his liking. He scratched out a note and checked the chord, then added another. A small sigh of relief whispered out of his mouth, at least she was letting him work in peace.

The door behind him creaked open. Or maybe not. Erik groaned and rested his head on the organ's keys; will he never have any peace? "What do you want, mademoiselle?" he asked wearily, turning to face Lark. He was in no mood to help, actually he felt like going to a wall and banging his head repeatedly on it. The girl edged in cautiously, noticing Erik's near-suicidal look in his gold eyes. "I'm really, really sorry to bother you, but…" she hesitated. He waited. "Am I bothering you?" That did it. Getting up from his seat, he walked over to a wall, not bothering to say anything to Lark who watched him confused. "Erik…?"

He didn't answer but coming up to the wall he started to bang his head against it, slowly and efficiently.

_Bang._

"Why me?"

_Bang._

"Why me?"

_Bang._

"What did I do to deserve this?"

_Bang._

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Lark stared at him, her jaw dropping open. He continued to mutter darkly under his breath, banging his head on the side of the wall, not hard just continuous. "Fine," she said, "I'll just go shopping myself!" Erik stopped his head-banging to look at her. "What?" Lark gestured back to the kitchen. "There's no food," she explained, "and I was going to ask if I can go buy some." She scrutinized his lean, almost skeletal, frame, Erik shifted uncomfortably. "Don't you eat?" He only shrugged and walked back over to the organ, shuffling his papers around. "I don't really eat, you see," he said, "it takes up too much time. You really don't need to eat so much." He shook his head, "There's actually a tea time…Crazy English."

She put her hands on her hips, and sighed. "Does that mean I can go or not?" Erik's eyes frowned, "Of course, I'm not going to starve you," he said wryly. He paused as if thinking about something else, "And I guess I have to go also…" She smiled at him and clapped her hands together once before turning around and heading out. "Let's go, then, Erik!" she cried. He stopped at the doorframe and looked incredulously at her, "Now?" he asked, disbelief written all over his eyes. The girl just smiled and nodded. "So let's go!" she said, grabbing his hand, leading him out of the house and into the boat on the lake. He could only sigh and climb into the boat after her.

Something puzzled him, "How did you know about the boat?" She turned and looked sheepishly at him. "Well," Lark said, not meeting his gaze, "when I came down here after, well you know," Erik nodded, "I…kinda looked around before hiding. I saw the boat while looking around the…" She turned to gaze at the water, "lake?" Erik nodded again and grabbed the oars. 'Why me?' he asked himself silently, rowing.

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**Updated. XD**


	28. Chapter 28

**Hoping you're enjoying everything!**

**_DISCLAIMER: _I do not own Phantom of the Opera. **

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_# Part Twenty-eight:_

They crossed the lake slowly, much to Erik's annoyance, for Lark kept chattering on and on about…well about nothing in particular. She paused once to ask, "What's this lake called?" He barely noticed that she asked until the girl repeated herself. "What?" She sighed, smiled once and turned back around, "Never mind, Erik." He shook his head and continued rowing and nearly cried out with surprise as the boat hit the shore. Was the lake really that short? "Seems like ages, doesn't it?" Lark asked as she hopped out. He followed her noiselessly. "Indeed." He said, not really listening. They walked around the shore a bit until they came to a door. The girl stared at it blankly, and then watched with interest as Erik pulled out a small skeleton key. Shoving it into the lock, he eased open the door and let Lark go in front.

"Can I see that?" she asked, looking at the key still dangling from Erik's hand. "Hmm? Oh, sure." He handed it to her and continued to lead them out into the streets where it was, thankfully, not too bright out. He sighed appreciatively to the dark grey clouds above them. "Do you know where to go?" he asked the girl. She looked up from the key in her hands and glanced around her. "I think so, but can you lead? I don't really know any place good." Lark handed Erik his key and took his hand cautiously, in case he didn't want her clinging to him. He didn't seem to notice, she smiled, pleased.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Lark looked around the store eagerly, inspecting barrels and boxes while Erik followed behind silently, avoiding other people's curious or threatened stares. He hated going out in public. Everyone's eyes always found the mask first before him. But people seemed more relaxed around both of them when they saw Erik with a bubbly young girl that often ran up to him to show him something. "No, we don't need that," he said sometimes, looking at the box or item that she had found. Her face would fall, but it would be lit with another smile as the girl found something else that caught her eyes. Erik led Lark into another store to get food while he meandered over to the large book collection near the back of the store. "Don't get anything we don't need." That's what he instructed Lark before he headed to the back of the store.

The girl smiled as she looked around, sometimes grabbing items and placing them into her basket. "Oh, that's nice," she said pleasantly to herself as a fruit stand in the corner caught her eye. Coming closer she looked over the oranges, those were her favorite. They used to be Mama's favorite, too. What did Erik like? The smallest frowns crossed her young face as she pondered what he would like. "Not that he would eat it," Lark giggled to herself remembering Erik's explanations of not wanting, or needing, to eat. Finally she decided to get four of the bright orange fruits before heading back to Erik. "What did you get?" he asked, looking at her full basket warily. Lark changed the subject, "Did you find anything, Erik?" He glowered at her but shook his head.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Once the food was looked over, Erik removed about a third of what was in there, and paid they opened the store's door and went into the white, snow covered streets. Lark inhaled deeply, "I love the way snow smells!" she declared, not noticing Erik's questioning eyes. "You like the snowfall?" he asked her quietly as they walked down the streets. She smiled softly, "Mama and me would always sit outside when it snowed, on our big porch." Her eyes were far away now, in a memory, "We loved the snow as it came down, especially the way it smelled after it was done, all crisp and fresh. Once she put a bucket out so we could taste it, too." Lark's small hand wriggled into Erik's, she looked up at him. "Do you like the snow?"

Erik looked up at the darkened sky, his eyes narrowed. He looked back down at Lark's worried expression and his eyes gave her a rare smile. "I guess I like it, though I don't see it much," he said thoughtfully. A grin appeared on Lark's face and stayed on her face as they continued, snow crunching below their feet. "I still like the sun, too though," she added seriously. Erik laughed out loud as he listened to her state this fact so seriously, it was quite unlike her character to be solemn, and her face was hilarious. Lark looked confused at his laughter, but then she beamed, happy to make him laugh. She wanted to make him laugh more, and smile more too; she was glad that she made him happy.

The dark clouds had gotten bigger, so much now, that it began to snow. "Wow, that was quick!" said Lark, and proceeded to shout out her thanks to the clouds. Erik raised his eyebrows, amused. Lark turned back to him, her cheeks bright pink from the cold breeze that blew past. "We get a lot of snow for winter, don't we?" she asked breathless from shouting. "Mm hmm," Erik agreed. They continued on, with Lark sometimes looking up and letting the snow fall on her face and eyelids. A person passed them, bundled heavily in scarves. The person stopped as they passed and turned around swiftly.

"Lark?"

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**Updated. XD**

**I wonder who that could be?? **


	29. Chapter 29

**Another sucessfully updated story! I'm on a roll here!**

**_DISCLAIMER: _Phantom of the Opera isn't mine. **

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_# Part Twenty-nine:_

Lark turned around, the person removed one scarf. "Lark, is that you?" the stranger asked again, surprised. The person begun to roll down the scarves until a pink face appeared. The girl gasped excitedly, "Richard?" The man's face beamed at her and nodded. "Richard!" Lark shrieked happily, hugging the man, "Oh, Richard, it's so good to see you again!" Richard laughed and hugged her back, "It's good to see you, too, Lark! You've definitely grown, last time I saw you, you were still learning to talk!" Erik just stood there, bewildered by this encounter and feeling slightly left out. Lark noticed his discomfort and smiled encouragingly at him. She turned back to Richard and led him over.

"Erik," she said, unconsciously taking his hand, "this is an old family friend of ours, Richard Bair. Richard, this is Erik! He's taking care of me, now." Richard gave another startling white smile and seized Erik's other hand and shook it enthusiastically. "A great honor, Mousier!" he said, grinning from ear to ear, "A great pleasure to meet you!" The young man's smile was too large for his face; he looked like a jack-o-lantern. Erik was very unused to this sort of greeting, of any greeting now that he thought about it. Nor did the youth seem to mind his mask. "Indeed," he mumbled, relieved that Richard had released his hand.

The young man turned to Lark and rested his hand on her head and laughed. "I'm glad to see you two get along!" he said enthusiastically, "Lark can be a bit of a handful!" Erik nodded, a faint smile tugging the sides of eyes as he watched Lark make a face. "Don't tell him that, Richard!" she cried out, wriggling away from the young man's hand. He laughed again and apologized. "Sorry, but this good mousier should have a warning, don't you think?" Richard asked Erik, winking. Erik groaned, "_Now _you tell me," The young girl looked positively horrified and looked anxiously up at Erik's face.

His mask, as always, was expressionless, but his eyes sparkled with the joke as they told Lark silently, '_I don't mean it, I'm kidding.' _She relaxed and turned to her younger friend with a curious stare. "So why are you here in Paris, Rich?" She used his old nickname. "I thought you were working on your violins." Erik looked up, surprised to find that this man was a musician. "You play?" he inquired. Richard nodded and gestured to the case, they had not noticed before, sitting calmly on the cold snow. "Yes, mousier, but only little. You see," he puffed up like a proud penguin, "I design and build violins."

Lark nodded, also proud. "Let Erik see, Rich!" she said excitedly, noticing Erik's interest in the case. Richard smiled but shook his head regretfully. "Can't," he said, "the cold weather could hurt the model I'm working on." Seeing the girl's face drop he added hurriedly, "But you may see my work in my home." He looked to Erik who said nothing. "I guess you're busy, but come visit me sometime when you both have time!" He handed Erik his address which he took and shifted it into one of his cloak's pockets. Richard beamed again.

Now it was Richard's turn to fix Lark with a quizzical stare. "Lark," he began hesitantly, "where is your family? Last time I saw you, it was your brother and mother staying with you." Erik could feel her hand tighten around his and her face registered a blank look. "Dead." She said emotion gone from her face, "My brother drowned two months before Mama… before Mama died three years ago." Erik's grip on Lark's hand became tighter. The young man's face drained of color, "Rebecca and Jonathan?" he asked, his voice strained, "But there was so many of you…eight of your family…Oh, Lark, I'm so sorry." The girl managed to force a smile, but it was a bitter, bitter smile devoid of any warmth. "It's okay," she said, "it doesn't matter now. I'm looked after by Erik." She looked up at Erik and smiled gently and wriggled her fingers in his hand, protesting the tight grip he had on them.

Erik's hand loosened, but only just. He gritted his teeth, so that was what happened to her, why she was alone when she first came. Lark had bade Richard goodbye and pulled Erik along gently. "Come on," she said, "I still have to clean up the kitchen!" He followed her, relieved that some of her bubbly happiness had come back. He decided not to ask about her past, not now. Erik smiled slightly behind the mask as Lark raced ahead, chattering about how lucky they were to meet her friend. "You could be his friend too, Erik!" she said happily. Erik only shrugged as he thought of the smiling young man he had just met. "Perhaps," he answered, taking out the skeleton key from his pocket as they came up to the Rue Scribe's door.

"Can I open it?" Lark asked, eyeing the key hopefully.

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**Updated. XD**

**YES! I'm soo happy i added the Rue Scribe! (i LOVE the Leroux book!!!)**


	30. Chapter 30

**I'm sooo happy! My writter's block has left me thanks to the wonderful, perfect, and any other verbs i missed, idea my friend Megan has given me for the X-mas eppy!**

**No, it's not this one, but it's coming soon! (feels like a movie preveiw...)****_

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**_# Part Thirty:_**

Lark touched the cold water, splashing it around as Erik rowed back down the lake to the house. He watched her carefully, thinking, how could she be so happy still when she had lost everyone? "So who's 'all eight of you'?" he asked, breaking the silence. She didn't look up from the water, her body had stiffened but she answered. "There were eight in my family, my Mama, Papa, my four older brothers, my little sister…" the girl hesitated, "and me." She added finally in a small afterthought. He looked up. "So…then they are all…?" Lark looked at him with glassy, emotionless eyes, he shivered slightly. "Dead." She prompted, her hands begun to wring around themselves.

"Ah…" Erik didn't say anything else in the matter to Lark's relief. The boat bumped the other side and the girl jumped out with her basket. "I'll be in the kitchen!" she sang out happily, her basket swinging precariously behind her. He sighed as he tied the boat up.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

She had cleared out the kitchen pretty well; at least there weren't so many bottles. Lark had stocked up the cupboards with the food that they had bought and set the oranges in a bowl. Listening to the sweet music that echoed down from Erik's room, the girl peeled one of the orange fruits and ate it, relishing each juicy piece. "Yum," she said smiling, licking the juice off her fingers. She decided to work on something else, since the kitchen was done. "Where to work?" she asked herself quietly, laughing. A heavy thud and some swift swearing from the halls caused Lark to smile wider; she would clean the organ room! It really was a mess in there, and Erik wasn't working. Unless, of course, you call damning half the world work.

Walking cautiously down the hall, the girl jumped a little at the sound of something smashing against the wall, with Erik's watchful language sputtering through.

"Damn…"

_Smash._

"It…"

**Crunch.**

"All…"

_**Shatter.**_

"To Hell!"

Erik's war cry came through the door. Lark pressed her ear against the door, what was he doing? The door jerked open, sending the girl sprawling into the room. "WAHH!" Lark cried out, landing right in front of a pair of black boots. Erik's angry voice came from above her. "And you, what are you doing?" he demanded, "Sneaking around again, eh?" She got up and brushed herself off while avoiding his burning gaze to look around the room. It was even more of a mess then she had ever seen, papers scattered, instruments lying around, and something lying smashed and totally demolished at the foot of the wall. "I'm not sneaking," she said, answering Erik's previous question.

Glancing at the pile of splintered wood and at Erik's bleeding hand she exclaimed loudly, "You're hurt!" She rushed over and gently caught his bleeding hand, peering at it worriedly; it had a nasty gash across it. He snatched it back. "Its fine," he snapped, wincing as he wrapped a strip of cloth around it. She looked a bit worried but her gaze fell on the pile of shattered wood. "What were you smashing, Erik?" He glowered at her from his hand and kicked the pile slightly with his boot. "A damnable piece of…" He made a violent gesture in mid-air, miming strangling something. "Oh." She walked past Erik to bend down to look at it then looked back at him, horrified. "Erik…was this…a violin?" she asked shocked. His response was tart. "No, it was a viola."

"Same thing!" she cried, fingering the wood pieces. Erik shook his head, "No, it's not the same thing." He persisted, "It's very different, my dear, any musician would know that!" Lark wasn't really listening. "I can't believe you broke it!" she wailed, "I can't believe you broke it, Erik!" He grimaced, "I needed a new one, anyways…" he grumbled. She rounded on him as best a 13 year old girl could, "You could've sold it or traded it for a new one!" He looked back down at her coolly, she continued. "You could've _saved _it! But you choose to smash it, Erik!" He shrugged indifferently and began sweeping the pile farther into the corner with the toe of his boot. "It was too old to sell," he said, "it needed to be retired." His eyes grinned wickedly at her.

Lark moaned in exasperation, "Not retired in pieces!" He was grinning again. "And it's not funny, Erik, not funny! Why I should…I should…" Erik interrupted, "If you're trying to threaten me, mademoiselle, you might want to be taller." She glared at him but found herself comparing their heights. Erik was defiantly outranking her by two heads, he was tall and thin, like a wire. A very, very strong tall wire. Lark sighed, defeated and began to clean up around the organ; sifting through papers and organizing. He watched her befuddled before asking, "What are you doing?" She looked at him and smiled. "Can't you guess?" she asked sweetly. Erik scowled and turned on his heel and stomped out of the organ's room. Lark smiled, shaking her head and continued to clean up.

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**Updated. XD**

**Haha! Oh i really DO enjoy writting this story, thanks for the reveiws!** **I decided on no more ruler thingys to seperate parts in the story. too confusing XP **


	31. Chapter 31

**I thank you all for your lovely reveiws and ideas:)**

**Thamkfully i have gotten my Christmas list done, done some shopping, and yeah! XD**

**anyways, here is the next chappy!! **

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_Part Thirty-one:_

A week or so passed without anything particularly interesting happening, save for the time Lark almost burned down the kitchen while trying to light a match. Erik had gone out to the roof to get away from the smell of smoke and burning oranges; Lark wouldn't notice he was gone since he was only going up for a minute. He breathed in the cold air and sighed, his warm breath creating puffs of small clouds. He didn't notice the chill much, it was pretty cold down in the lair and he was used to the cold that seeped in.

He was perched on the edge, looking down into the streets where few people bustled around trying to prepare for the holiday rush. Erik tried to keep his off couples that passed before shops, all huddled together in loving embraces, sharing kisses, thoughts about what to get for whom. Tears pricked his eyes and he tore his eyes away from the nearest couple that was standing in front of a jewelry shop, the woman leaning up to kiss her tall husband on the cheek.

Erik had always been alone, even with his Angel for that shortest period of time there had been an empty hollowness, aching in him. He should have felt it in the beginning, he knew she would have never loved him…the monster. 'But what if I had been born with a different face…what if I had been handsome…' he thought then he immediately tried to banish the thoughts, but they kept picking at his skull. His hands balled into fists and his nails dug into his palms, he stood up. He needed to stop thinking about the 'what ifs.' They were the only ones that could really hurt.

He decided to head back, starting to feel the cold creeping up on him, and it wasn't the snow.

------------------o

Lark wasn't in the organ room when Erik came back, actually, it didn't even look like the organ room. He looked around in bewilderment in the newly organized room. He glanced down, so that's what the stone color was…it was much easier to see it without all the papers, instruments, and other unidentified items that had once littered the ground. Erik was checking the newly polished and dusted organ top when Lark skipped in happily behind him. "So what do you think?" she asked anxiously. He jumped slightly; he didn't see her behind him. "Good, it's well done," he said finally, trying to keep his startled heart rate down. He walked away to another part of the room.

The girl sat at the organ's seat and looked at Erik and smiled. "Where did you go, anyway, Erik?" He was looking through a stack of books, taking a few and opening them then snapping them back shut. Erik and came over to the organ and laid a hand on Lark's head. "Just to the roof, and," he looked back at the book pile, "do I really have all those books?" She laughed lightly and shook her head slowly under his hand. "No, some are ones I had…borrowed from Meg." Erik snorted and motioned for her to stand up, which the girl obeyed. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to work," he said, pushing her out the door, "go amuse yourself and try not to burn anything again."

Lark made a face at him but he had already closed the door behind him. Something was bugging her; she opened the door and popped her head in. Erik was looking at the organized pile of his music; his head looked up at the sound of the door. "Yes?" he asked irritably. The girl smiled weakly, "sorry to bother you, but I have a quick question, Erik. What's the date?" Erik looked at her for a moment as if he didn't know what she said. "The date?" he asked, she nodded.

He rubbed his bandaged hand absentmindedly, "It's the 20th of December, I believe." Lark's eyes sparkled excitedly for a moment. "Oh! Thanks, Erik." She said, trying to remove the excitement in her voice. "You're welcome…I guess." Erik murmured turning back to his music as the door shut. He shook his head, what could be going through that girl's head each day? Erik made a face, he may never know in all his lifetime. "Typical," he muttered, taking out his quill and ink.

------------------------o

Lark was so happy and surprised, it was already December! That meant that Christmas was coming up soon, she grinned wickedly as her eye fell on Erik's door. Stifling a giggle she ran off, she had to go do some things…

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**i wonder what's she up to...XD **


	32. Chapter 32 Xmas ep 1

**ARGH! This one isn't 600 words!! ... But it's the Christmas Special. ****Enjoy, and thank you Megan for the idea! **

_Disclaimer:_ I DON'T OWN PHANTOM OF THE OPERA! (though i want to buy it from Leroux but he's dead. XP)_

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_# Part Thirty-two:_

Erik was playing softly on the organ, trying to get a chord finished. His hands glided over the keys, each finger gently pressing a certain note to weave a pattern that made a melody. He sunk into his music, letting it wash him away to the place where he was free, he smiled. A wrong note in the song stopped him, the spell was broken. He bit his tongue, annoyed; he couldn't get that section right. Scratching his head with the quill Erik crossed out the sour note and sighed, resting his head in his hands. What could he do to fix it? He walked out, he couldn't work anymore.

"Erik! Erik, come here, please!" Lark called down the hall from the doorway that led to her room. "What?" Erik grumbled. He grudgingly made his way over to her. She beamed at him. "Here, stand right there." Lark commanded excitedly, her eyes sparkling. Obeying her childish request, Erik let her position him in the doorway in front of the beaming girl. "Good!" she praised, clapping her hands together. "Now, can you kneel, please?" she asked.

"Why?" Erik demanded. The girl gave him a serious look, but the playful glint in her eyes ruining the image. He sighed; he had recently learned that just doing what Lark wanted let whatever it was go by fast and usually without problem, usually. Making a face, Erik kneeled down and looked Lark sternly in the eyes. "Alright, I'm kneeling," he said. "I must ask…" he started, but was cut off short when Lark suddenly gave him a short kiss on side of his masked face.

Startled by the gesture, Erik stood up abruptly, face burning. "What was that?" he snapped. "I got you under the mistletoe!" she giggled and pointed up. He glanced up to see a bundle of the leafy plant tied to the doorframe above their heads. "What?" he asked coldly, though his face was still burning. Lark beamed again. "Mistletoe. Whenever two people are under mistletoe, they have to kiss!" she said simply, enjoying Erik's befuddled reaction.

"I-I…Wait…What?" Erik spluttered, the words in his mouth stumbling over each other, his face heating up again. Lark just smiled at him, amused and eyes sparkling happily. He found his tongue. "It shall not happen again!" Erik finally shouted and stomped off to the organ's room. Lark could only giggle and watch him, smiling to herself. How funny it was to see a man like Erik react as he did to a little thing like a kiss on the cheek; she grinned. He had barely reached the door when she hurried over to him and was embracing Erik in a backwards hug.

He threw his hands up in despair and sighed. "What trap have I fallen in now?" Lark laughed and hugged him tighter. "It's not a trap!" she exclaimed. He didn't move but shifted his weight back and forth on each leg. "Then why, I must ask," he asked quietly, "are you content to hug me so?" Lark looked up at him, smiling. "Because, you're my friend, I like you!" She let her arms fall back to her side and turning on her heel, she skipped happily back to her room. Erik could only stare after her. The thoughts echoed over and over in his mind. She liked him. Lark…that young child cared for him. Considered him, _him,_ a monster, as her friend.

"Thank you." He murmured, and he headed back to his own room, a hidden smile on his lips.

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**Updated. XD**


	33. Chapter 33

**i hope you enjoyed the X-Mas special**

**_DISCLAIMER: _I do not own Phantom of the Opera... **

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__# Part Thirty-three:_

"So what exactly are you planning this time?" Erik grumbled, watching Lark hitching up her cloak snuggly around her shoulders. They had come out next to the lake; the girl had insisted that she needed to go out for awhile. Normally, he would have been fine with that, until she mentioned she wanted to go alone. "There is no way I'm letting you go anywhere by yourself," he ordered, scowling at the young girl. She rolled her eyes at him but managed to smile at him. "It's a secret," she teased, heading over to the boat that was currently tied up to the shore. "I do not find you amusing!" Erik pursued her hissing, "Tell me at once or I shall lock you in the house and never let you out!"

Lark sighed and turned around to face her livid guardian. "Erik, you mustn't be so rash! Or violent," she added, scolding him gently; "you're acting silly." He bared his teeth and hissed angrily at her but the girl only grinned and shook her head. She started to clamor into the boat but Erik held her back by the shoulder. "You didn't answer my first question!" he snapped as his voice got louder as he became more and more frustrated. Lark took this as a sign that his temper was getting the best of him; she needed to remind him of it. "You should control your temper, Erik," she said simply, "it will just get people to dislike you if you get angry so much," she gently easing his clenched hand off her shoulder.

Erik stopped short and took a step back, gasping as though she had struck him instead of just talked to him. The girl felt instant remorse; hopping quickly off the boat she took a step toward him. "Oh! Erik, I'm sorry I didn't mean that!" She took another step toward him with her arms out; he hastily moved back, his eyes wary and hurt. Lark stopped advancing and put her arms down. "That was an awful thing to say to you, Erik," she scolded herself, "I know you're just worried; I should learn to hold my tongue before I rat on your temper." She looked imploringly at him. "Can you forgive me?" Erik sighed and nodded, and motioned for her to get into the boat.

"I deserved that," he muttered softly to himself, "so now I shall just let you go wherever you're going to go." Lark squealed with delight and hugged him fiercely before climbing into the boat. "Thanks Erik!" she said happily, "I'm going to get you something nice when I'm out!" Erik climbed in after her, grabbing the oars. "Hmph," he grumbled, "there is no reason for that…" She turned back her head from her seat in the front. "Sure there is, Erik!" she exclaimed, "It's near Christmas, you should know that!" Erik looked up from rowing with perplexed eyes. "I don't celebrate that holiday," he said as the boat glided over the glassy surface of the water.

Lark looked surprised, "You don't?" she asked incredulously, "Why not?" Erik just shrugged and got to his feet; they had gotten to the other shore. Helping her out of the boat Erik changed the subject before the girl could remember it. "How long will you be gone?" he asked, handing her the Rue Scribe's grim skeleton key. Lark took the key and opened the door; Erik followed her out into the chilly air, pulling his own cloak tighter around himself. "Hmm," she mused, "I think I shall be gone for an hour or two." She shrugged helplessly and smiled once at the masked man with her until he made an exasperated noice and left. "Be back in two hours, two hours only!" he called over his shoulder, the Rue Scribe's door clanging shut behind him.

"He's so bossy," Lark muttered, then smiled brightly, "he's funny, too." She took out the piece of paper from her pocket and checked the address. Richard's home could be pretty hard to find when you only had two hours. Insane giggling overcame the girl for only a moment before she composed herself and was able to fix her cloak and head down the snow covered streets. "I have to stop talking to myself in public…" she shook her head; it had always been a bad habit ever since…She stopped herself, no she wouldn't think about it.

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**Updated. XD**


	34. Chapter 34

**Happy Holidays everyone! i'm back from my Grandma's and last night i was able to finish another new chapter for you all!**

**Hope you enjoy! XD **

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_Part Thirty-four:_

Luckily, Lark had no trouble finding Richard's street. But the house was a very different story. "Wow," she said breathlessly, looking up at the tall, beautiful mansions. The rims of the roofs were encrusted with delicate icicles and frosted patterns covered the window glasses leaving the houses looking like something from a winter fairy tale. Glancing back at the paper in her hand to the homes before her, she set out to find Richard's among the others. The snow crunched under Lark's feet, she shivered slightly and was thankful for the heavy cloak she had found in her closet. There were so many costumes and outfits stuffed in that closet Lark feared for her life every time she had to open it.

Walking up the pathway she could only stare at the magnificence of her old friend's home. It was three stories, with large, inviting windows trimmed with a brilliant white wood that she couldn't name. A circular stained glass window sat on the very top center of the roof, casting multicolored rays to dance on the white snow to a passerby's delight. Lark felt almost unworthy to go up the cascading porch steps to the large beautiful double doors, each engraved in their own personal design. Gathering a bit of courage, she held her head up and walked up the stairs to stand in front of the entrance. Letting out a long breathe, she raised her fist and knocked loudly. She winced a bit as the cold wood stung her knuckles as they rapped against the door. The sound of her knocking seemed to travel throughout the whole house, echoing down its hallways until silence was the only thing that reached Lark's ears.

She blinked. "Okay, that was really strange…" She jumped, startled, as the door was suddenly pulled open. A clear, bright, lovely voice rang out through the mansion's now opened door into the cold air. "Hello, dear, you must be Mademoiselle Lark!" The young girl looked up into a beautiful woman's face with surprise and awe. The woman in the doorway was rather tall, almost as tall as Erik would be. She had long, silky, auburn hair that flowed down to her shoulders curling slightly at the tips with a few natural highlights in them. Her face was heart-shaped with a slightly pointed chin and a small delicate nose. The woman's eyebrows made graceful arches over her sapphire blue eyes that were framed with long, angel-like lashes. Her eyes reflected warmth and kindness.

She had a determined mouth, like she could handle anything despite her delicate features. Her lips curled up slightly at the corners giving her a natural smile upon her face when it was relaxed. Her figure was willow thin, and she looked to be around her late-thirty's but the lady was still able to look healthy and very attractive; though it didn't seem that the woman cared if she was or not. No make-up burdened her clear face, but Lark thought she looked like a winter angel. She was wearing a long, flowing white gown with light blue lace trimmings and a slightly low-cut bodice that was also a-lined with the beautiful lace. A sash the same color as the lace was wrapped around her small waist, accenting her slight, but glamorous, figure. She was lovely, like a rose; but like a rose, she knew how to defend herself. Lark could see it in the woman's eyes, the determination and self-confidence that filled her to the brim.

The woman smiled warmly at Lark. "Richard has told me all about you," she said happily, "but he never told me you would be visiting!" The young girl could only stare wondrously at the angel before her. "You're very pretty, Mademoiselle," she said smiling at the beautiful person. The woman laughed pleasantly, it sounded like bells, and led Lark into the house. "Thank you, my dear," she said, delighted, "I thank you for your kind words!" She lowered her voice a little, smiling mischievously, "My brother wouldn't give me a compliment if his life depended on it." Lark giggled, it wasn't strange for her to talk to an adult; especially one so light-hearted with a child's heart inside a grown woman's spirit. Just like Mama used to be.

"Who is your brother, Mademoiselle?" Lark asked curiously as the woman led them both down a brightly lit hallway. The woman laughed again, turning her head toward the young girl. "Richard is my brother of course! I'm his older sister, Rachel." Lark's eyes widened to the size of tea saucers. Opening her mouth to speak, they were interrupted by their host, Richard. "Lark!" he boomed, "Wonderful to see you here!" The young girl beamed and raced to hug her old friend. "It's good to see you, too, Richard," she said, hugging him tight. Richard hugged her back and released her, noticing the beautiful woman beside them. "Ah," he said solemnly, "I see that you have met my older sister, Rachel." Lark nodded, "yes, I didn't know you had a sister!"

Rachel punched her younger brother lightly on the shoulder. "You didn't introduce me before," she scolded teasingly; "I never got the pleasure of meeting such a kind, sweet little lady!" Lark blushed at Rachel's praise but Richard scoffed. "You were too busy with your silly paints and oils, sister." She crossed her arms. "They are not silly, brother, they are tools," Rachel huffed defensively. He shook his head and explained to his small friend, taking notice of her curious stares that went between both adults. "My sister is an artist, a painter, for a living." He glanced at his sister who glared at him, "She will work on one piece for about a month and still not be finished." Richard made a pained face at Rachel, who looked a little miffed about his comment.

"Oh, but I think it's wonderful that she would put so much effort into something she loves!" exclaimed Lark. She curtsied to the woman respectfully. "If you would like, Madame Rachel, I would enjoy seeing your work in which you have put so much valuable effort and time." Rachel looked both pleased and surprised. "But of course you can!" she said encouragingly, "I am pleased to see that a lady such as yourself would take interest in art at so young an age whereas a gentleman could not." She glanced in Richard's direction where he scowled at his older sister. He then excused himself to the library while the ladies observed 'pretty pictures.' Rachel glowered at her younger brother before taking Lark's hand and leading them up the exquisite staircase to the story above.

"I have always liked artwork," Lark explained as they walked down the corridor, "but I have found to enjoy it immensely when I saw Erik's drawings." Rachel looked down curiously at the young girl. "Erik?" she echoed. The girl nodded, smiling. "Yes, Erik is my guardian and friend!" Lark declared cheerfully, "He's a composer, an artist, a musician, an architect, and possibly a magician!" Rachel nodded, impressed. "I should like to meet him, perhaps?" she asked politely. The young girl beamed and clapped her hands together. "Ooh, yes, yes, that would be splendid for Erik!" she squealed, "I've been telling him he needs to meet new people; I think I could introduce you to him soon!" Rachel nodded agreeably. "I would love to meet your guardian, Lark."

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**Poor Erik, he has so many things happening! XD sorry that it took me so long to give you all a new chappy.**

**i will be writting faster, so hopefully i'll be able to add the last X-mas special before Christmas. hmm, the race goes on, type my fingers, type!!**


	35. Chapter 35

**_Merry Christmas _everyone! XD **

**Hope you are all enjoying the story! i was DYING to add a new character to the scene! and yes, i also love the word 'miffed', isn't it grand? **

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_Part Thirty-five:_

Rachel and Lark stopped in front of a door almost hidden by a large, rather ugly, vase that stood beside it. "This is my workroom," the woman explained, "Richard made sure that it was out of the way of anything." Rachel shook her head and opened the door, letting the girl go in first. Lark stepped in and looked around with wonder. The room had a large window, letting all the sun's rays shine in, and it was bright and large. Easels with paintings were covered with white sheets, some uncovered slightly as to let its wet paint dry. Pots of paints and holders stuffed with different brushes covered the large, undecorated table, smeared with colors, oils, and a few hurried designs.

"This is my latest work," Rachel said, smiling at the child's amazement. Walking over to the nearest easel, the woman grasped the sheet covering it and yanked it off, showing half the painting finished. Lark gasped and praised Rachel as she studied the well painted artwork. It was of a garden, with exquisite flowers, trees that reached for the skies, and a small pathway leading to a still pond overflowing with delicate lily pads. There was also a lady in the picture, her long golden gown half finished and the baubles that hung from her blond curls nearly done. The lady was kneeling next to the pond, one hand nearly touching the water and the other in someone else's gloved hand. There was no person painted to finish the gloved hand that held the lady's. "She's very pretty," Lark sighed, she peered closer, "but why isn't there another person that goes with the glove?"

Rachel sighed and pointed out the bodiless hand. "This is where I am stuck," she explained, "the rest of the picture I can finish easily, but I can't find the right gentleman to go with my lady." She heaved a sigh and traced the empty campus where the 'gentleman' was supposed to be. "If I could just find someone that could fit here I would be done, and I could sell my painting." Lark studied the garden and the lady, her young face creased with concentration. "What did you want the monsieur to wear?" Lark asked timidly, a little scared to be offering any ideas to such a fine artist. Rachel's blue eyes sparkled as she envisioned the man that was supposed to complete her work.

"He is supposed to be the exact and complete opposite of the mademoiselle," she said, nodding, "While she is light, beautiful, and well loved, the man, my monsieur, is dark, ugly, and well hated." Rachel's eyes misted over. "But they complete each other," she sighed dreamily, seemingly forgetting where she was, "even though they are completely opposite to one another, ugly dares to look beauty in the face on wings of love." Lark smiled up at her. "That sounds nearly poetic, Madame!" Rachel laughed and recovered the painting, the young girl feeling almost sad when she did. "Yes, I guess it is," she admitted, grinning. "And please, my dear, just call me Rachel. Madame makes me feel old." Lark laughed and agreed.

"My dear sister, must you be so uncivilized?" Richard had poked his head in to check on them. Noticing the painting, now covered, he groaned. "Oh now, Rachel, you didn't go on about that silly painting's meaning did you?" Rachel winked at Lark, who smiled at the older woman, and turned to her younger brother. "Yes I did, Richard," Rachel said, peeved, "have you shown Mademoiselle Lark your silly strings?" The host just smirked and shook his head. "I haven't been able to, my dear sister," he said, bowing mockingly at her, "but I have come to collect her so that I may show her…er…my 'silly strings' as you so pleasantly put it." Rachel huffed, and bade Lark a good day.

"Hopefully I will be able to meet your guardian, Lark," she called over her shoulder, "but my brother has need of your attention to his own work." Waving goodbye, Rachel tossed her hair over a shoulder and headed out into the halls. Richard shook his head, grinning fondly at his sister's retreating back. "That's Rachel for you, Lark." He said gesturing to the door, "Hopefully she didn't bore you." Lark looked at her friend, surprised. "Oh no, Richard!" she exclaimed, "I loved Rachel, she's very kind and gifted. Not a bore to me at all!" Richard just shrugged and offered his arm to his young friend who giggled and took it. "So," he began, leading them down another hall, "what brings you to our humble home?"

"It's hardly humble, Rich," Lark said wryly, Richard laughed. "But yes, I wanted to get something for Erik," she continued. Richard nodded, interestedly. "For a Christmas gift, I am guessing?" The young girl nodded, "yes, I wanted to get him one of your instruments. I can pay for one of course!" she added hurriedly. Richard looked pleased. "I am glad that you would like to see my work," he said pleasantly, "but I refuse to accept your money for it! Call it a gift from me." He grinned and Lark squealed, delighted with his offer. "Now, let's go into _my _workroom and pick out a nice one for Monsieur Erik!" Richard opened a door and let them both in.

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**Hope everyone had good presents! oh, and the next (and last) X-mas speical will be up shortly, but i'm still kinda writting it...XP**

**it will be a bit late, so don't hurt me!!**


	36. Chapter 36

**Thank you all for the reviews! they mean so much to me...(sniffs)**

**anyways, here's the next chappy! XD **

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_Part Thirty-six:_

The room was the same as Rachel's, but his was stuffed with wood, saws, strings, tools, and molds to make the beautiful string instruments that hung finished on the walls. "Oh, they're wonderful!" Lark gasped, rushing forward to peer at the different kinds and styles of them. Richard nodded, his chest puffed out in pride. "Yes, they are all unique," he boasted, "not one the same as the other!" He walked over to where Lark stood and, reaching up, handed her a violin. "This one I deeply recommend," He said, "it's very durable, and sounds like a dream!" the young girl took it and looked it over; it really was a beautiful style and the strings looked well cared for.

"So how is Monsieur Erik, Lark?" Richard asked politely, watching the girl look over the violin. Lark sighed, "Cryptic as usual," she said, picking up the bow of the violin. Richard laughed. "Is that so?" he said, smiling. Lark gave a fond smile as she held out the violin to him. "Yes," she said, laughing a little herself. "I think I do like this one, though, Richard." She gestured to the violin in her hands. "I think this one would be the best for Erik!" Richard nodded and took it from her. "Alright, do you need it wrapped?" Lark thought about it for a moment then nodded vigorously. Richard smiled and walked over to the table, and taking some brown wrapping paper, carefully wrapped the violin and its bow up. Tying it up with some string, he handed the package over to Lark.

"Thank you, Richard; I know Erik will really appreciate it!" Lark said, "His viola was sm-…er, well it broke so he needed a new one." Richard bowed gracefully. "It is my pleasure, Lark." She laughed nervously; she couldn't really tell her friend that Erik had actually smashed the viola himself. Richard looked anxiously at his young friend, "It really is good to see you well." Lark smiled as they walked out of the workroom. "I know, Richard, I know." Closing the door, Richard and Lark headed down the stairs to the parlor where Rachel was perched on the sofa, sewing busily. Richard coughed once and his older sister looked up from the shirt she was mending.

"Ah, did you find one you liked, Lark?" she asked warmly, noticing the package in the child's arms. Lark nodded gratefully and smiled at the woman. "Yes, I thank you both for your hospitality." She bowed, still unused to acting like a lady after pretending to be a boy for a few years. Rachel laughed, delighted and patted the seat next to her. "Sit with me, my dear, and we'll send my brother for tea!" Richard growled but the girl laughed and joined the beautiful lady on sofa. "Now let's see this instrument," Rachel said, "I want to make sure my brother hasn't gotten you a faulty one."

Richard sputtered angrily, but his sister just laughed. Lark cut in. "I don't want to cause any trouble," she mumbled, "I think that Richard picked out a very nice one…" Rachel smiled fondly at the child. "I know, my dear," she apologized, "can you blame an old woman for teasing her younger brother?" Richard coughed, "No." The woman rolled her eyes but smiled at Lark who relaxed and smiled back. "Sorry, Rich," the girl said sheepishly. The host just shook his head and headed for the kitchen, his sister laughing at him all the way.

"Don't worry about Richard," Rachel assured her, noticing Lark's worried look, "he's very used to it by now." The girl looked relieved. "You don't look old, Rachel." She told her, remembering what Rachel had said before. The woman laughed and placed down her sewing. "Well for everyone else, thirty-six is pretty old, my dear," she explained, "Especially when I am still unmarried." Lark glanced at Rachel's left hand; sure enough, there was no ring upon her third finger. "Aren't you lonely?" asked the girl. Mama had been distressingly lonely when Papa died, almost to the point of not existing.

"No, I am not that lonely," Rachel said quietly, smiling at Lark to reassure her, "I have my brother and my art. And I also have a new friend, my dear!" She stood up and took the young girl's hands. "And I have met you, Lark. I hope we are friends," Lark beamed and stood up also. "Of course we'll be friends!" she giggled. Rachel laughed and was about to say something when the doorbell sounded. The woman and girl looked down the hallway curiously as they watched Richard come out of the kitchen. "I'll get it, sister," he said as Rachel started forward. Lark peered out from behind her new friend and watched Richard go to the door.

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**oooh! cliffy! XD sorry about that...**

**oh yeah, my family is going to go camping in Tuson, so i won't be able to do another chappy until i get back. Sorry about the short notice, but that's how it is in my house XP**


	37. Chapter 37

**I'm finally back! Whew, being in Tucson for so long, it feels weird to be back in NV time...anyways...**

**you know what i have discovered? it doesn't matter if the X-mas chappys are late! XD you know why? cause it doesn't need to be corespondent to the real time! i mean, like in the Harry Potter's, they celebrate X-mas right? but you could be reading the story in June! so it really doesn't matter that i'm late! in fact, i'm not late at all! YAY! **

**(cough) oops, here's the next chappy...XP **

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_Part Thirty-seven:_

"We're getting so many guests today, aren't we?" asked Rachel, smiling at Lark who nodded in agreement; trying to smother her giggle. Richard gave them both a withering look before opening the door. The two females couldn't see out the doorway, so they didn't see the rather ominous figure of Erik. Richard recognized him, though, as he opened the door. "Ah! If it isn't Monsieur Erik!" he exclaimed, pleased, "Come on in, sir, Lark's in the parlor." Rachel, on hearing his name, craned to see her small friend's guardian. Lark, however, glanced hurriedly at the clock above the Bair's mantle piece. "Oh, Erik's not going to happy…" she muttered, biting her lip. It had been more than three hours.

"Indeed. I assume that she hasn't disappeared?" Erik's curt reply to the question startled a laugh out of Richard. "No, sir, she has not." He admitted, "Though, I'm guessing you didn't expect for her to be away so long." Richard bowed apologetically and stepped aside, letting Erik come into the mansion's hall. He looked around, faintly impressed with the luxuriousness of the house; it wasn't everyday that you could see these sorts of mansions. The host only glanced once, curiously, at his guest's mask before leading him back into the parlor. Lark was sitting on the sofa looking relaxed while beside her sat a woman, her face hidden by the shadows cast by the fire that was crackling merrily in the fireplace.

Erik walked into the parlor room, feeling a little uncomfortable in the enclosed space. Lark looked up at him and smiled, completely bemused to see her guardian. "Um…hi Erik," she said innocently, "what brings you here?" He glowered at her and crossed his arms irritably. "I wouldn't be here if you knew how to keep time, Lark," he growled, not noticing the shadowed figure beside her. Lark looked at the clock above the mantle and then grinned. "Yeah, I'm kind of bad at that, aren't I?" He rolled his eyes and sighed, defeated. There was no way he could be serious around the girl; and her scatter-brained personality was hard to argue with. Lark got up obediently and stood next to Erik, dwarfed by his towering height.

"Why couldn't you tell it was past your three hours?" he demanded angrily, "Do you enjoy making me go even more insane with worrying about where you were?" She bowed her head guiltily. "No," she said, "I didn't mean to stay so late, but it wasn't Richard's fault! I was going to just visit them and then—then I would have…" Erik cut her off by clamping a gloved hand over her mouth before she could launch in her long confessions. "Forget it," he sighed, "it doesn't matter now, as long as you actually listen to me next time." He removed his hand from her mouth. Lark nodded, beaming up at Erik, and suddenly threw her arms around him in a tight hug, startling him. "Okay, Erik!" she chirped, "I'll listen next time!"

His face grew hot, unused to such affection, but he managed to stay still until the young girl released him. "Oh yes!" she exclaimed suddenly, "I forgot to introduce you to my new friend!" Erik's head cocked slightly to the side as he stared at Lark. "Who?" The shadowed figure rose and walked into the firelight. "I believe it is me, Monsieur, who Lark wants to introduce." A hard lump rose in Erik's throat as an almost criminally beautiful woman came into view, her lips curled into a welcoming smile and eyes sparkling in some sort of private joke. Lark grinned and nodded. "Erik," she said, unconsciously taking his gloved hand, "this is Richard's older sister and my new friend, Rachel!" Rachel beamed and glided over to where they were standing. "It's my great pleasure to meet the man Lark has been speaking so highly about!" she said happily. Erik couldn't breathe, but he managed to turn to Lark with curious stare.

"'Highly?'" he echoed, bemused. Rachel laughed pleasantly. "Oh yes, she really does admire you, Monsieur! Always talking about you and saying what you like and don't like…" His gold eyes flashed in surprise while Lark blushed and tried to hush the older woman. "Shh! Shh!" she tried to silence her friend, "Oh, Rachel, don't tell him that!" Rachel looked surprised, but one could tell she had planned that. "But why ever not, Lark?" she exclaimed as the child fussed, "You know it's true, and everyone needs a little praise." Lark groaned and hid her face in Rachel's shawl in embarrassment. The woman only laughed and smiled back at Erik, winking. The lump in his throat became almost unbearable. What was wrong with him?

Much to Lark's relief, Rachel had distracted Erik enough so that she had had time to hide her package beforehand. If he had seen it, there would be no doubt that he would want to go through it. "You both should stay for Christmas dinner," invited Richard, who had come into the parlor behind Erik, "as our thanks for letting Lark visit us." Lark squealed excitedly and pulled on Erik's arm, pleading. "Ooh, it would be so fun, Erik!" she squealed, "Can we? Please?" Rachel nodded solemnly, "It would be our pleasure to have some more company besides each other, Monsieur, if you and Lark joined us." Erik looked back and forth between the two pleading women and Richard's amused expression feeling bewildered and slightly irked.

"No," he said firmly, there was no need for them to be here at all. The other two adults looked at Lark, expecting for the girl's face to drop and for her to become sad; but it didn't happen. She just heaved a rather dramatic sigh and smiled at them. "Oh well," she said, walking past Erik. He watched her suspiciously, golden eyes fixed on the innocent expression of the child. "I guess that means I can't give you my gift." She sighed again and walked to the door. Erik pursued her. "What gift?" he demanded.

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**He's so bossy! i lurve him! (gets Punjabbed)**


	38. Chapter 38

**Hello! sorry for the late chappy, it's getting harder to get on the computer to type before my parents come home. they don't let me on the computer during the week, but i sneak on so i can still type:)**

**anyways, i apologize for it being short... **

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_Part Thirty-eight:_

"Well…" Lark turned on one heel, pivoting completely around. "I _was_ going to give you a gift for Christmas here, but you don't want to stay so…" she shrugged, "I can't get it to give to you 'cause it's lost somewhere here." She gestured around the house with a small hand and grinned mischievously at Erik. He scowled, this was one of the girl's little plots, he was sure of it. But she had a gift? For him? Erik could feel his curiosity get the better of him. He pursed his lips and studied Lark's smiling face and sighed, defeated. "Fine," he muttered, "but do not be surprised when I want to leave early." The girl squealed excitedly and pulled him hurriedly, but gently, back to the parlor where Rachel fanned herself slowly with a decorated fan.

A small, knowing smile was on her lips and only grew wider as Erik and Lark came into the room. "I see that you have returned," she said happily, putting down her fan to get up. Richard was rocking back and forth on his heels by the fire, warming up his cold backside. He beamed his jack-o-lantern smile as the young girl led in a sulky Erik. He clapped his hands together excitedly. "This is excellent," he declared, "I'm very, very pleased you both can stay, right sister?" Rachel nodded agreeably and walked over to Lark, collecting her from Erik. "We women will just leave you men to chat," she said, tucking the girl's hand in the crook of her arm.

Lark laughed at her guardian's bewildered expression as he watched her being led out of the room. Rachel winked at him as they passed, Erik only scowling in response; the hard lump in his throat nearly smothering him. Richard smiled, shaking his head, and turned to face the roaring fire to warm the other half of him. "That is my sister for you, Monsieur," Richard laughed, "always confusing people with her actions and manner. You get used to it of course, but then, I'm her brother." Erik nodded, not sure of how to respond to anything. His host turned to face him again and gestured toward a seat. "Make yourself comfortable," he said. Erik sat down on the nearest chair, Richard sat in another near the sofa and they talked.

Rachel had laughed quietly when she and Lark had exited the parlor. "Now we can let them talk and get to know one another," she said happily. Lark nodded in agreement and smiled. The older woman pressed one ear against the door for a moment before grinning. The girl looked curiously at Rachel who took her ear away and nodded to herself. She looked confused about something, though; Lark could see it in her eyes. The deep, prodding curiosity that usually dwelled in a small child was now dwelling in the woman. "Lark," Rachel began curiously, "why does Monsieur Erik wear a mask? It is very curious." The girl looked calmly up at the woman though her heart was pounding. Should she tell her about him? "I can't answer that," Lark said finally, "only Erik can answer that question."

Rachel gave her a funny look but it was washed away as she sighed understandably. "Alright," she said, "I should have not asked you, but Monsieur Erik, sense it is his business alone." Lark nodded seriously, but the sparkle in her eyes ruined the image. "Oh, Rachel?" called the girl as the woman started down the hall. Rachel stopped and looked back as Lark caught up. "Yes, my dear?" she asked inquiringly. The girl grinned mischievously, "Don't call Erik 'Monsieur'," she said, "he says it makes him edgy." Rachel's eyebrows rose and a delighted smile bloomed on her face. "Is that so?" she laughed. Lark gave a quick nod and grinned. "Well I best not make him edgy!" the lady declared, the smile still on her lips.

"Come now," Rachel said, holding out her hands, "let us see how we shall prepare Christmas dinner!" Lark squealed eagerly and tugged on Rachel's outstretched hands down the halls. The two friends left for the kitchen's, laughing.

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**sorry it's so short, i had a small writer's block while i was writting but i managed to finish XP**


	39. Chapter 39

**Yay! I'm so happy with myself! I finally got free of this really bad writer's block that was affecting how i wrote, and now all the ideas for my story are flowing back in!**

**(does happy dance) Now, let's with the next chapter! **

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_Part Thirty-nine:_

Richard and Erik talked for quite awhile, both getting used to one another's presence. Before, there had been an uncomfortable era around them when Lark was not present to calm things. He had found, surprisingly enough, that his host was clever and a pleasure to talk to, he understood him. Or at least was able to keep up with his intellect; one thing Lark couldn't possibly do. "I wonder what Rachel and Lark are up to," Richard mused to himself as their conversation dwindled to a comfortable silence. Erik glanced towards the door of the parlor and shrugged. "Such a pleasant girl," his host continued, "it really was a shock when I found her without her family. What a tragedy…" His guest suddenly sat poker straight in his chair.

"May I ask about the…tragedy?" Erik asked quickly, Lark had never told him and she always had gone glassy-eyed whenever her family or past was mentioned. The dead, haunted look that he tried to have her avoid; it always gave him a chill. Richard frowned slightly, pondering. Erik sat tensely in his chair, hands gripping the arms of the seat. The host finally shook his head. "No, I am sorry sir, but I feel that Lark is the only one who can tell you. I would rather not betray her trust." Erik nodded tiredly; of course he wouldn't want to tell him, Lark had probably begged him not to mention it. Richard noticed his acquaintance's discomfort and hastened to reassure him.

"Do not worry too much about it, Monsieur," he said, "I myself barely know anything about what has happened in Lark's life." Erik just frowned, but he felt a little better after his host spoke. "It is just that Lark," Richard continued slowly, "has never been one to burden those she loves with her own problems. She would keep it to herself." He sadly watched the flames in the fireplace. "That's probably why I didn't know of her family's deaths." Erik, unsure of what to reply to this, said nothing. Suddenly the parlor door was swung open and Lark sailed in with Rachel trailing behind; both wearing large smiles.

"Dinner is ready, everybody!" sang out Rachel, clapping her hands together. "Yes! Come on! Come on!" Lark agreed, giggling. Flouncing over to where Erik sat, she seized his hands and tried to pull him up but had no success. Instead, she pulled on his arm so hard she ended up sprawling head over heels. "WAHH!" Lark's familiar, almost signature, cry of surprise came from her throat as she landed onto Erik's lap. He immediately shot out of his seat, dumping the startled girl onto the floor. "Ouch!" Lark looked up from the floor at Erik with alarm and bafflement. He was breathing a little harder and was watching the girl with his own shock; she had scared him for Erik had not seen her come up to him.

He then glared at her, gold eyes sparking irritably. "Don't ever do that to me, again!" he hissed. Lark made a face and reached for his hand, and seizing it, the girl heaved herself up. Erik stooped only a small bit as she put her weight down on his hand, but he pulled her up. Rachel stifled a small stream of laughter that fought to be released, pressing her hand over her mouth eyes sparkling. Richard just stood in front of the fireplace watching the scene amused.

Erik heard Rachel's stifled laughter and, whirling around, threw a withering glance her way but Rachel just smiled at him. The hard lump reappeared in his throat but he managed to get around it by turning back towards Lark. The girl dusted herself off and looked thoughtfully at Erik. "You know," she started slowly, "I figured out something." He looked warily at the girl. "What?" Lark smiled slowly. "Oh, nothing."

"What?" he demanded. Lark peered innocently at him. "I forgot," Rachel couldn't hold in her laughter much longer; she burst into sniggers, laughing not unkindly. Richard just looked back and forth between the girl and Erik wearing a look of bafflement. Erik glared at her, "You did not," he snapped. Rachel cut between them. "Let's go then, Lark!" she said cheerfully, pulling the girl gently along beside her. Lark laughed and grabbed Erik's hand, tugging him behind them. "It's dinnertime, brother!" called Rachel over her shoulder, with Lark arguing happily with a very irritated Erik, "Come on! Let's get going!" Richard nodded and followed the group out into the halls.

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**Again, sorry for the late post, hopefully i am back on schedule so i can update regularly again! XD**


	40. Chapter 40

**I'm SOOOO sorry that i haven't been able to update! My parents are keeping me farther away from computer-use and my stupid siblings keep blurting out that i'm on. **

**again, very trully sorry, and i hope you can all forgive me!! T.T here's the next chappy! **

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_Part Forty:_

The dinner was a splendid spread of different types of good things to eat. Rachel gave Lark plenty of food, generously making sure the young girl was the happy with her plate. Erik, who sat next to Lark, took barely anything and ignored the wine in front of him, sulking. Richard sat on the other side of the mahogany table next to his older sister, his own plate full. Swirling his glass around, Richard poured over a newspaper, not noticing the disapproving looks from Rachel.

"Are you going to eat that cranberry sauce?" asked Lark, pointing at the portion on Erik's plate. He grimaced slightly and shook his head, shifting his plate over to the girl. She grinned, delighted, and eagerly scooped it off of Erik's plate to hers then stealing his roll before sliding the plate back to him.

Rachel noticed Erik's non-existent appetite. Frowning only just, she asked him if he was hungry at all. He grinned and shook his head. "I don't really eat at all," he said. Lark nodded, agreeably and tried to talk through a mouth full of roll. "It's true, he barely eats at all!" Erik scolded her half-heartedly for chewing with her mouth full. Taking a large swallow, Lark downed her food and continued. "Erik says that he doesn't need to eat that much, and that we only need one meal a day if any,"

He rolled his eyes as Lark beamed at him and sulked more in his chair, avoiding the curious look Richard gave him. Rachel leaned forward slightly. "You don't eat, Erik?" He started, looking at her like he had never seen her before, but then settled back in his chair; fervently wishing for a hat. "No," he answered, mumbling towards the ground, "I don't need to, I don't want to." The conversation ended there.

Rachel observed the dark figure curiously over her entwined fingers as he chatted with Richard. He was dark and ominous, no doubt; but his era was softened, lightened, by this bright happy child that sat next to him. _They're both so different…_Rachel thought, _and yet they complete each other…_ Then it hit her.

"No! I refuse!" Erik snapped. "But why, Erik?" Lark pouted, pulling on his sleeve. He simmered, "I don't need an excuse." Richard looked up from his newspaper. "What?" Lark started to answer with a little malicious smile on her face but Erik quickly cut in. "Nothing! Just an unneeded idea from Lark," he gave the girl a withering look to which she ignored.

Richard looked at both of them with a bemused expression before going back to his newspaper. Erik glared once at Lark, who had returned to her food, then glanced up. Rachel was staring at him. Feeling his mouth go dry, Erik narrowed his eyes at her before clearing his throat. She blinked and looked at him as if she had just woken up from some sort of dream.

"That's it," she murmured, looking surprised. Lark looked up and looked at Rachel with confusion, then looking at Erik. He only stared back at Rachel, not sure what to say. "That's it!" Rachel exclaimed loudly, causing Richard to jump and look up, irritated, at his sibling. "What's it?" asked Lark curiously.

The woman just shook her head and clapped her hands together excitedly before turning, and racing out of the room. Richard looked embarrassedly at his guests. "Please excuse me," he mumbled, "I have to go see what my sister is up to…" Erik shrugged as their host got up and raced upstairs calling after Rachel. Lark looked at Erik and grinned.

"I wonder what Rachel's up to." Lark mused, getting to her feet. Erik glanced at her. "Where are you going?" he asked suspiciously. The girl pushed in her chair and took another roll before heading out of the dining room. "I'm going to see what Rachel was talking about, of course," she answered, "Come on!" Erik sighed and also got up; he might as well go see for himself.

Plus Lark could get lost. Following the young girl up the stairs, Erik could only look around the mansion with a twinge of jealousy. He had had a house like this, as a child, but it wasn't as grand. Nor did he have a house now, unless you count the house under the Opera. Lark turned around and urged him forward. "Come on, Erik!" she scolded, "You have to keep up."

"What?" Erik snapped out of his thoughts to see Lark about two meters down the hall, her small hands on her hips. "They're in here!" Lark motioned to the door next to her. Erik walked up next to the girl and looked at the doorway. "Should we go in?" he asked, noticing the angry voices inside.

The girl shrugged worriedly, she too, had noticed the arguing voices. "Maybe we should leave them alone…" she mumbled, but Erik had already put his ear against the door. Lark made a face at him but he only motioned for her to do the same. Sighing, she too, placed her ear against the door and listened intently.

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**(Sighs) as much as i hate to put you all in a cliffy, i really have no choice! Hopefully i can update this weekend or Friday. Depends if my parents find me on here or not...lol**


	41. Chapter 41

**I can't beleive how much i have written! Hmm, perhaps i should put chappy's together to make them longer, so there will be less chappys...you all don't mind, do you?**

**anyways, sorry for the slow updates! **

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_Part Forty-one:_

"…a complete waste of time!" Richard's voice snapped through the door. "What do mean, 'waste of time'?" Rachel's voice shrieked, "You are the one who is a critic and a jerk!" Lark looked worriedly at Erik but he only listened harder to the people behind the door. "_I'm_ a jerk??" Richard bellowed, "Who's the one who leaves right in the middle of a social occasion to finish a _painting_?" Rachel gasped like she had been struck. "I am embarrassed by you," her brother continued, "and I can hope that our guests are not too insulted by your foolishness." There was the sound of feet towards the door and Erik pulled Lark away. "Act like you're lost." He hissed in her ear, leading her down another hall and turning her around. "I'll pretend I'm following you." Lark's eyes widened and she nodded vigorously.

The door opened and Lark immediately turned to Erik. "…It's not my fault we're lost!" she wailed, "They didn't really show me around!" She winked at him before registering her face with an unhappy pout. 'She's good,' he thought. Erik feigned an irritated voice and crossed his arms. "Well, we should not have left the dinning hall if you didn't know where to go!" he steamed. Richard closed the door behind him and walked over. "Lark? Monsieur Erik?" he questioned curiously, "What are you doing up here?" Erik turned toward him and pointed at Lark. "Ask her!" he fumed. Richard glanced over to the girl who shrugged helplessly. "I wanted to know where you two went…" she said truthfully.

Richard looked briefly surprised but then smiled kindly at her. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "we should have shown you both around before." Erik cocked his head in the direction of the door their host had just left. "What is in there?" he asked. Richard scowled slightly and coughed, embarrassed. "It is my sister's workshop. I don't suggest you go in there, very messy…" Erik nodded but looked curiously at Lark who smiled and shrugged; she had been there before. Richard then coughed again and looked sheepishly at both Erik and Lark. "I am very sorry for my sister's actions." He said, "She sometimes gets carried away with her work." Richard tried to lead his guests away and back downstairs but Erik stopped.

"May I see this…workshop?" Erik asked, looking curiously at the door. Richard looked at him then at Lark who grinned. "I've already seen it, but can we? I think Erik would enjoy it." Their host looked helplessly between his guests then sighed in defeat. "I suppose, he grumbled, "but I shall go elsewhere, my sister is not happy with me at the moment." Erik nodded and bowed to his host politely. Richard bowed back before rubbing Lark's hair fondly and heading down the stairs. "Come on, Erik!" Lark said excitedly, tugging on his sleeve, "I think you will enjoy Rachel's work!"

"What exactly does she do?" he asked suspiciously, though curiosity compelling him forward along with Lark's tugging on his arm. She just smiled mysteriously and knocked on the door leading to Rachel's workshop. A sound of something being thrown against the wall was heard. "Go away, Richard!" Rachel yelled from inside, "I don't need your criticism!" Lark looked startled as she threw a glance at Erik who looked as shocked as she was. "Rachel? It's me and Erik." She said timidly, "Can I come in?" A cry of surprise came and the door was opened revealing a red-eyed Rachel. "Oh! Lark, I'm so sorry… I thought you where my brother…" The woman blushed bright crimson and tried to sweep her hair into a more acceptable state but failed.

"What were you doing when you left, Rachel?" Lark asked. Erik eyed the covered easels with interest, ignoring the conversation. "Paintings," he muttered to himself. Rachel sighed heavily and shrugged. "I guess I got inspired, my dear," she explained to Lark, "and I don't like to lose an idea so I had to save it." Rachel smiled at her and motioned towards the first covered easel. The girl looked confused for a moment but then brightened and clapped her hands together excitedly. "Oooh, Rachel! Have you finished?" she squealed, "Did you get an idea?" Erik looked back once at the squeal with a look of uneasiness but then went back to ignoring them and trying to suppress the urge to peer under an easel's cover. Rachel laughed lightly and led Lark over to the first easel, uncovering just a little bit, their backs hiding the rest of the painting; much to Erik's annoyance. The girl praised the older woman. "Oh, Rachel, it's starting to look really, really good!" she exclaimed, "but the monsieur reminds me of someone…"

"Yes, he isn't supposed to, though." Rachel remarked, fondly placing the sheet over the painting, "I just borrowed an image. As you see, though, I haven't finished him yet." Lark giggled, "He has no head!" Erik whipped around and gave the girl a peculiar look to which she just grinned evilly. "What to see, Erik?" she teased; he scowled at her but nodded slightly. Rachel paled and stood in front of the easel. "Oh, I'd rather not…" she mumbled, another blush rising in her cheeks. Erik glanced at her and walked a step closer. "Why ever not?" he asked, trying to look over her shoulder, "Lark got to see." Rachel shook her head and spread out her arms, preventing Erik from going around her.

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**Reviews aren't neccessary, but they help**


	42. Chapter 42

**yay! i'm so happy with myself (does happy dance) i finally got through my problems with the computer -sorta broke- and through my writer's block! chapters will come easily again!**

**Well i hope you enjoy:) **

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_Part Forty-two:_

Lark folded her arms, tapping her chin thoughtfully while watching Rachel stop Erik from looking at the painting. Then a thought hit her. "That's what it is!" she exclaimed, causing both adults to look at her. "What is?" asked Erik. The woman just stared at Lark and shook her head slowly, as if to warn her. Lark took notice of this, but only smiled innocently at her friend; Rachel paled. Erik walked over to the girl. "What is, Lark?" he demanded, placing his hands on her shoulders, peering into the girl's eyes. Rachel looked pleadingly at her, but Lark was facing Erik. "Oh," she smiled widely, "I just found out whose image Rachel used in her painting." Erik's eyes showed the battle between curiosities and minding his own business; curiosity won. "Whose?" Rachel looked close enough to faint.

Lark laughed, her eyes sparkling. "You!" she cried out, smiling. A soft cry came from Rachel as Erik's mouth dropped open. "…Me?" he asked, looking very taken aback. Erik looked over at Rachel, whose blush had deepened, and looked curiously at her. "Is this so, mademoiselle?" Rachel didn't meet his eyes. Erik looked at Lark who smiled again and nodded. "Me…" he repeated softly, disbelievingly, "why?" The girl shrugged and glanced over to Rachel who blushed and opened the door. "I think we should find Richard," she said, still blushing furiously. With another sweep of hair, the woman left the room; her neck and face a bright crimson with embarrassment. Erik turned to Lark and found her staring at him with a little mischievous smile. "You did that on purpose," he accused, "didn't you?"

Lark beamed. "Not really," she said, "I spoke the truth! Rachel was just embarrassed of using your image for her painting without informing you." Erik just sighed and rolled his eyes. "You didn't have to embarrass her." Lark's face fell slightly as she bowed her head. "Yes," she agreed, "I should have restrained myself, but she would have never shown you the painting!" She skipped over to the covered painting and motioned him over, placing a hand on the piece's white covering. Erik scowled but came over, his eyes searching for some clue to what the painting was. Lark smiled but kept her face or eyes from betraying the secret. "Alright, are you sure you want to see it?" she questioned teasingly.

Erik growled at her but the girl just giggled and took off the sheet covering the easel. "She's really good, isn't she?" He just stared at it, jaw slack. Lark closed his mouth and stood beside him, admiring the well painted picture of the man, and the beautiful woman. The man, as Lark had said, had no head yet, but the rest was unmistakably taken from Erik himself. "That's me…?" Erik muttered, taken aback. Lark nodded and leaned against him, he didn't seem to notice. "It's really good, huh?" He only stared at it, his eyes falling on the dark figure. "Am I really that thin?" he asked, amusement finally seeping into his shocked tone. The girl laughed, delighted, and pulled the sheet back over the painting. "Come on," she said, "we got to go back downstairs before Rachel thinks you're stealing her ideas!" She skipped out happily calling out to Richard and Rachel, leaving Erik mouthing silently behind her. "I won't steal her ideas," he muttered darkly, leaving the room after Lark.

He walked back downstairs to meet up with Richard in the entrance hall who was leaning against the wall, looking relaxed. Rachel was currently helping a giggling Lark back into her cloak; the woman seemed to have forgotten her embarrassment. A tightly wrapped package lay somewhat forgotten by Erik's own cloak. Lark noticed Erik first and eagerly ran up to him. "Hurry, Erik!" she squealed, "Richard says we can ride in his carriage back home!" Erik looked at their host with surprise; the younger man just smiled meekly and shrugged. "Is that so?" he questioned, eyeing the wrapped package by his cloak with curiosity. Rachel bent and picked both cloak and package up in her arms and handed the cloak to Erik.

"Your cloak," she muttered, blushing. The woman quickly walked over to Lark and handed her the package. "And your secret, my dear," she said, winking at her. Lark laughed and tucked the parcel under her arm and clapped her hands together. "Let's go!" she chirped, "I've never been in a carriage before!" Rachel looked at her with alarm. "'Never'?" she echoed; Lark nodded. The woman clasped her hands over her heart and gasped. "We must correct that at once!" Grabbing the child's hand, Rachel led her out the door calling over her shoulder, "Well? Aren't you two going to join? Or will you walk?" Lark's light, happy laughter came afterwards as she turned to see both men glare after them.

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**I have always found my Richard and Rachel like twins, i enjoy adding them to my story! **


	43. Chapter 43

**I'm truely sorry for the slow updates. but i have been bombarded with school, parents, and most hated, a writer's block. XP**

**so yeah, i apologize and i hope you enjoy the next chapter!**

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Part Forty-three:**_

Richard sighed as he watched his sister and young friend clamored into their carriage. He turned to Erik and smiled helplessly. "Might as well join them, eh?" His guest looked over towards Lark, who was laughing happily, and nodded reluctantly. "I suppose," he sighed, "that we must join them also. I'd rather avoid walking, myself…"

Richard beamed at him and followed behind as Erik crunched through the snow into the night towards the carriage. "Ooh! Erik!" Lark called to him, hanging precariously out of the side, "come sit next to me!" He looked at her with surprise. "I will," he replied slowly, "if you wouldn't put yourself in such a dangerous position. You are making me nervous."

Lark sighed dramatically and pulled herself back in the carriage. The ends of Erik's lips twitched upward slightly in a tiny smile as he climbed into the back, avoiding the seat next to Rachel to sit next to Lark. The child beamed at him as he settled himself in and she bounced on the seat excitedly. "This will be so much fun!" she gushed. Erik looked at her with a pained expression though Rachel smothered a giggle.

Richard opened the door and hoisted himself in, taking the seat next to his sister. "Where to, Monsieur?" He asked Erik. Lark answered for him in a delighted voice. "The Opera Populaire!" she sang out, giddy for the ride to begin. Erik scowled at her but nodded reluctantly at Richard. "What she said, I suppose," he grumbled. Rachel laughed softly and immediately engaged a conversation with Lark as Erik glanced curiously her way.

Erik had them steer around Paris first, avoiding the Opera for awhile so they could all admire the city. But mostly because Lark begged him to make the ride last longer. "I always forget how pretty Paris is," Rachel sighed as they passed a beautiful park. "Very," agreed her brother, though he barely glanced out the window. Rachel looked at Erik and rolled her eyes. He only managed a grimace past his suddenly dry mouth.

Lark had fallen asleep, leaning against her corner of the carriage, but as soon as it made a turn she flopped onto Erik's lap with a small sigh. He stiffened and made to move her quickly off of him but stopped as she almost growled at him viciously as she slept. Rachel laughed softly as Richard peered over at them, smiling. "It does seem that Lark couldn't handle the excitement," he commented while Erik sat there, feeling uncomfortable. "Indeed," he mumbled, trying not to shift the sleeping child.

Somehow, Lark managed to stay sleeping on Erik's lap for the rest of the trip much to his discomfort. But as the carriage rolled to a stop outside the Opera Erik took to poking her in the shoulder. She groaned and unconsciously waved her hand around to shoo him away. "Wake up, Lark," he said loudly, poking her again. "Mph, I don't want to, Mama. Five more minutes…" she moaned. Richard's face took on a look of pity while Rachel sighed, smiling sadly.

Erik groaned and heaved both Lark and himself out of the seat. "If she won't wake up," he explained to his host and hostess's surprised looks, "I shall just carry her back." Richard silently opened the door to the carriage for Erik while his sister hid a small smile. Erik climbed down with little difficulty even with Lark in his arms and he landed lightly on the cobbled street beside the grand Opera Populaire. "Thank you," he said curtly and started off until Rachel leaned out and grabbed his shoulder.

"Wait," she asked, holding up a finger as Erik turned to stare at her. The woman rummaged around beneath her seat and pulled out a bottle and grabbed the parcel that the child had been holding. Rachel gently handed both items to Erik. "The bottle is some Pouilly Fuisse," she explained, "Richard and I wanted to give you some. Lark said you enjoyed wine and I think you will find that to your liking."

She beamed at Erik's stunned and outraged face and waved good-bye as her brother ordered the carriage home. Erik glared down at the sleeping child in his arms. "Little canary," he grumbled, shifting her in an easier position. Lark muttered something undistinguishable and leaned her head lightly against his shoulder. Erik sighed and headed off towards the Rue Scribe's door.

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**review's is not what i'm dying for, but i'm hoping for. XD haha, tell me if you like it!**


	44. Chapter 44

**Ach! You won't BELIEVE what has happened to your dear authoress (me) this whole stupid month, so I'm not going to tell you. Haha! But I humbly apologize for not updating. The good news is, this was the chappy i had most problems with, so hopefully all excedeeding chapters will go on smoothly with no writer's block!**

**yay! Enjoy the new chappy and try to forgive me and not hunt me down. Some readers have done that. and i thank them for their...erm...encoragement. lol! **

**why are you reading this?? read the story!! GO GO GO!!**

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_**Part Forty-four:**_

Erik managed to reach the Rue Scribe's door and somehow got the key to open it without dumping both parcels and girl. He walked across the shore of the lake and dumped Lark and the items unceremoniously into the boat before leaping into it himself. They were halfway across the lake when finally Lark stirred out of her deep slumber. Looking around blearily she opened her mouth with surprise and disappointment.

"Oh no!" she cried, "I missed the ride, didn't I?" Erik looked up and continued rowing. "Good evening, mademoiselle," he said pleasantly, "I trust you slept well?" Lark gasped at him. "You didn't wake me up?" she asked, looking rather hurt. He grimaced. "No, you wouldn't wake up. Believe me when I say that I would have given a great amount to have you awaken."

"Oh," she glanced down at the parcels between them. "You didn't peek at your gift, right?" she demanded, looking suspiciously at him. Erik grinned and slowly shook his head; Lark looked relieved. "Good!" she clapped her hands together. "You can't until tomorrow morning!" He glared at her from above the oars.

"Why?" he demanded. The girl only smiled mysteriously and turned around to skim her fingers over the glassy surface of the chilly lake. Erik sighed heavily and continued to row until the boat crunched against the shore of the house. Lark immediately snatched up the parcel containing his present and hurried off to her room to hide it while he tied up the boat.

Erik plopped himself into a chair in the kitchen and glared at the bottle. Why did Lark enjoy telling Richard and Rachel almost everything about him? He sighed heavily and got up to grab a glass; he might as well try the wine he received. As he popped open the bottle, his mind wandered back to his music, his finger unconsciously tapping out an unknown beat.

Suddenly a weight shifted behind him and, before Erik could turn around, he found himself tightly locked in another backwards hug by Lark. "Are you going to try the wine, Erik?" she asked excitedly. His face burned but he managed to pry her arms off from around his midsection. "Perhaps I would have, if you hadn't interrupted me." He grumbled, pouring it carefully in the glass.

Lark made a face at him and peered at the dark red liquid with interest. "Can I try a sip?" she asked, looking up at him with wide eyes. He shrugged and slid the glass towards her. "Just a small one," he ordered, feeling that he should at least say something of the sort as her guardian. Or something like that. "Alright!" she answered and obediently took a small sip from the glass, pulling a small face as she set it down.

Erik grinned. "Too much?" he asked. Lark shook her head and smacked her lips together thoughtfully. "No, it's sweet," she said seriously, "it's sweet, but strange. Kind of burns your throat on the way down. Though not in a bad way…" Erik snickered as he took the glass for his own. "That would be the alcohol, my dear." He explained, absentmindedly swirling the glass. She looked at him then at the wine bottle. "Oh, I know that, but its sweet taste overcomes it and mixes in its own flavor. Altogether," she concluded, "a very nice wine."

"Are you a professional wine taster, then?" he asked, surprised into a small laugh, taking a sip. Lark giggled and shook her head; she liked making Erik laugh. "No, but maybe one day?" she looked at him almost expectantly to the point where he gave a full-throated laugh. "Sure, sure," he cackled, enjoying himself. Lark had taken an orange out of the fruit basket and was peeling it, letting the tangy aroma swirl into the air. "Really?" she asked, surprised.

"No, my dear, you would not like the job," he teased, then Erik became serious but a playful glint was still in his gold eyes. "But I believe you should be going to bed, it's very late and I think you would want me to open that tomorrow." He gestured to the parcel that was lying innocently on the table. Lark squealed and took it up in her arms, glaring at Erik. "How did you get this?" she demanded, though her curiosity shown out more than her irritation. He grinned wickedly and pushed her gently out of the kitchen. "I suggest you hide it more carefully, no?"

"Errriikkk!" she wailed, trying to go against his force with no avail. "You aren't supposed to look!" She struggled out of his grasp and tried to get to the kitchen but he laughed even harder and plucked her up as if she was just a bag of flour and threw her gently over his shoulder. "To reassure you, as you're listening," he said as he walked slowly to her room, "I did not look." She stopped her pointless struggles to look at him happily. "You didn't?"

"Not even a little." He promised modestly, flopping her onto her bed as they entered her room. Lark laughed as she bounced on the pillows but looked up at Erik sternly. "You can't look until tomorrow morning," she instructed, "alright, Erik?" He bowed gallantly. "I promise." She beamed and threw her arms around him in a tight hug. "Thank you, Erik!" she whispered, "And goodnight!" Erik stiffened at her contact, but allowed it, feeling awkward. He nearly cried out with shock and deep alarm as she pecked him on the cheek and, giggling the whole way, pushed him out of the room.

"See you in the morning!" she cried from inside, happily. He sighed, face still burning, and rolled his eyes. He'd never get used to her odd, scatter-brained ways. Though pausing outside his bedchamber door he had to allow a small smile to spread on his face. She was singing on the top of her little lungs. _"Joy to the world…"_

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**Yay! It made me very happy, this chapter! mostly because i finally got to finish it, but whatever...hope you all enjoyed!**


	45. Chapter 45

**Bwhahaha! once again, i have returned with a new chapter under my wing! or under my Microsoft Word file...nevermind. (sighs) sorry for the wait, but it has been a very tight and tense week/month so typing has been out for awhile. (cries) BUT i am back!**

**I'm hoping i will be able to get on and have no misshaps again...geez my mother split Diet Coke over the old keyboard and we couldn't find out what was wrong for DAYS until i tipped it and all the soda came pouring out. (shakes head)**

**anyways, hope you enjoy the chappy and plz tell me if i got Erik's character in better, my other phan phriend told me he wasn't very good in the last chappy...(grrrr)**

**DISCLAIMER: the only thing i own is my incredible typing fingers! **

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_Part Forty-five:_

Lark awoke with a start and lay silently in her bed, trembling. It was the nightmare again. The one with Mama…She looked hesitantly at the black, worn mask sitting quietly on her bedside table and felt one or two tears trickle out onto her paled cheeks. Lark sat up and hastily wiped at her moist eyes with her arm. Then she sighed and looked around at where she was. "Oh!" she exclaimed, surprised. It was Christmas and she had to give Erik her gift. The girl dug under her pillow and was relieved, and maybe a little disappointed, that her gift was still there.

She grinned and flounced out of bed, not bothering to even comb her hair, and ran out the door.

Erik was sleeping by the time a shriek of joy woke him up. "Erik! Erik!" He felt a heavy object fling itself on top of him. He gave a groan of pain and opened his eyes to find himself face to face with a flushed, excited young face. "Wake up!" the pretty face demanded impatiently, "Wake up, Erik! It's the morning!" He slowly sat up and shook his head, trying to remember where he was.

"What?" he asked groggily. The face, or Lark, made a face and waved a parcel in his face. "Christmas!" she crowed, throwing herself on top of him again. She bounced up and down in the small space of the coffin jolting him around uncomfortably. The coffin…Erik started, horrified, and glanced hastily at the child's reaction of the coffin. He still slept in it, but nowadays, he had felt more and more unease sleeping in a box where the dead were supposed to rest. But looking at the excitable child, Lark seemed undisturbed, or unaware, that he was in an open coffin.

"Erik, please wake up!" she demanded, bouncing them both again. "You have to open your present!" He looked at her with unclear eyes, still fuzzy from sleep. "Present?" he echoed, surprised. _Did he get gifts? No, he never got gifts. Why was he getting one now? Had he been good?_ Lark looked at him worriedly and touched his shoulder. "Erik?" she squeaked, "are you in there?" He snapped out of his musing to look at her oddly, his face still blank.

She grinned suddenly and poked him in the head singing out, "Hello?? Hello in there?? Anyone hoooome??" She knocked carefully on the side of his head like a door. That did it. Erik caught her hand and glared at her. "What are you doing?" he asked, peeved. The child just clapped her hands together. "Oh good!" she exclaimed, pleased, "someone _is_ home!" Laughing at his surprised face she pushed the parcel in his hands and snuggled closer to him.

"Open it!" she ordered in a hushed voice, "You'll like it, I think." And, with both of them staring at the parcel as though it was a treasure chest, Erik gently tugged the wrappings away from a gorgeous mahogany violin. He stared at it and felt his jaw go slack with surprise. "Do you like it?" she asked softly. He looked at her and then back at the flawless instrument, tears pricking his eyes.

"Yes." He whispered. "I do like it." Composing himself a bit more, he became aware that the instrument was- "So, no viola, I see." Lark glared at him while he smirked. Then her face fell slightly and she hung her head. "I forgot what they looked like, okay?" she whispered, her face reddening with embarrassment. Erik shrugged. "It doesn't matter; I always liked the violin better." Lark looked at him with surprise. "Really?"

"No, not really, but it doesn't matter." He pulled off the rest of the paper off the violin as the girl stared at him with disbelief, mouth open. Erik glanced at her once. "Bugs will fly into your mouth if you let it hang open that way." Her mouth immediately shut, he grinned and turned back to is gift. Then it hit him. "What…do I give you?" Erik asked, eyeing her suspiciously. "Huh?" He sighed and tapped his violin. "You gave me a gift, correct?" She nodded. "And so I have to give you one in exchange, correct?"

She looked blankly at him. "Isn't that the way this holiday works?" Her eyes widened as her mouth dropped open again. "You'd give me something?" she asked incredulously. "You would give me a present?" Erik shrugged. "Well, why not?" he asked. Lark bit her lip. "Anything?" she questioned. Erik paused then stated, "Within reason, of course." She nodded then thought heavily about it while he checked the strings and plucked a few, adjusting when needed.

"Can I…" Lark hesitated. Erik glanced at her. "Yes?" She fumbled with a piece of her hair, twining it around her finger. "Can I ask… questions?"

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**Questions, questions...Plz review! i need to get better!**


	46. Chapter 46

**At last! a beautiful, gorgeous update! YAY! cookie time! (eats a cookie) mmm, yummm...oh! (ahem) greetings readers! i have come with a new update for you all! i apologize that i haven't been able to update as quickly as i have before, but blame it on the time i do not have. XP**

**I want to thank you all for the wonderful suggestions! i have kept them in mind and have, hopefully, been able to add them into my writting. Okay, okay, i'm done speaking, you may read the chapter now!**

**DISCLAIMER: i own nothing but my own, loveable characters! (huggles Lark plushie) **

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_Part Forty-five:_

Erik looked at the young girl oddly. "Questions?" he echoed. She nodded her head vigorously causing her hair to mess up more than it was. "That's all I want!" she chirped cheerfully. "What type of questions?" he asked suspiciously, placing the violin under his chin; it fit perfectly. "What exactly do you want to know?" He picked up the slender bow and felt the hand-grip and nodded, satisfied. Lark peered around the room around her and threw her arms out enthusiastically. "Everything!" she cried. "I want to know everything!" Erik nearly dropped the bow and violin to whirl around to face her. "What?" he demanded, incredulously. "Give me an example!"

Lark looked slyly at her guardian and pointed to the coffin they were in. "Like why you sleep in a coffin, Erik!" she said cheerfully. He stared at her horrified. "I knew it," he croaked, "I knew you'd be disturbed…" She rolled her eyes and smiled at him like a teacher would at a young, dull-witted student. "No, I'm not, Erik!" she reassured him patiently, "I'm just curious why you would sleep in one!" He then scowled at her. Typical. "But you don't have to answer all the questions I ask…" she confessed, looking a bit disappointed that he had worked himself up. Erik looked at her, surprised. "You mean I can have restrictions?"

She nodded solemnly then brightened suddenly and hopped out of the coffin. Twirling around Lark handed him his gift, as he had dropped it with the shock about the coffin. "Can I ask you a question, now?" she asked hopefully. Erik looked at her and sighed, today was going to be a long one, he could tell. "You can ask one, Lark," he muttered, resigned.

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Throughout the whole day, Lark followed Erik like a little chick, peeping questions whenever they appeared in her head. "What's the lake called? What are you working on? How does the mirror work? Etc." Erik had, at first, answered the questions as well as he could. "Lake Averne. Nothing! I have forgotten…etc." At last Erik had stomped off to his room, Lark trailing behind, shouting, "That's it! Get your cloak, Lark!" She jogged to keep up with his long strides, her face turned upwards to peer worriedly into his irritated, masked one. "Why, Erik?" she questioned. He clamped his hands over his ears. Another question.

"We're going out." He answered curtly, shutting the door on her surprised figure. Striding to where his cloak lay, Erik thought of where they could go. Not anywhere to where Lark could ask more questions alone with him, that's for sure. He grimaced. Where was a good place to go where she would be distracted by other people? Pulling on his cloak his mind snapped to the perfect place.

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Lark had raced to her room to grab her cloak, as instructed, beaming happily. "I wonder where we are going, Mama?" She picked up the familiar mask and hugged it briefly, remembering her horrid dream, and set it back down before skipping out of the room. Erik was right outside her door, leaning against the wall as Lark popped out. Unfortunately, so was his foot. "WAHH!" The girl's so familiar cry rang through the hall as she tripped over Erik's foot.

Quickly Erik's arm shot out and seized her arm and yanked her back in place before she could send herself sprawling. "Must you be so clumsy?" he complained. Lark blushed crimson and tried to straighten herself out. "Sorry, Erik." she apologized, rubbing her eyes. "I didn't see your foot sticking out." Erik scowled then stalked off towards the exit door, Lark trailing after him, a small frown creasing her smooth features. Why didn't she see…?

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Lark squealed, delighted at their destination. "Oh! Erik!" she gushed, "Are we really going to see them?" Erik pursed his lips, another question. "Yes, Lark," he answered tiredly, "we're going to see them." The girl did a little twirl of happiness as they walked up to Richard and Rachel's large, welcoming house. Erik glanced up at the house and begged silently that they were home. Though the carriage was there, one could never be sure if they would accept an unexpected house call.

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Rachel was upstairs in her workroom, musing over her painting. She needed to somehow finish it or her brother would go mad. Not that she would object that, she smiled wryly; he was always getting frustrated with something or another. Giving the painting another look over, she added a few more flowers to the maiden's bouquet and placed her brush down with a sigh. Would she ever be able to find her ideal face for her monsieur?

She remembered the fight she and Richard had just a while ago at breakfast…

"_Why don't you just use a normal face, Rachel?" Richard had fumed. Rachel looked up at him from her grapefruit that sat in front of her, uneaten. She gasped at him. "Normal!?" she shrieked, her voice unintentionally rising. "It _can't _be normal! Anyone can paint a bloody regular face, Richard! I want something _unique_! I want something no one would want!"_

_Richard glared at her. "I want you to finish it, Rachel." He said evenly, though his own voice simmered with anger. "I want you to move on to something else. This painting is…is taking over you!" Here the woman had stood up, shocked and ashamed, for he was almost right, and had fled the breakfast table in anguish._

Rachel sighed. All she wanted was something no artist would ever think of painting…something so…so unnatural that all people would be captivated by just looking at it. "Perhaps it is taking over me." The woman muttered, walking over to the frost-tinged window. "Oh!" A cry of startled delight and shock fled her lips as she stared at the people outside. It was Lark and Erik.

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**Poor girl, I've always wanted to creat a 'Rachel' in one of my stories. and now i have:D Reviews are like my water and food, i need them to survive!!! **


	47. Chapter 47

**Ahhh, there's nothing better than a long weekend, good ideas, and wonderful, helpful reviews! For i have come back with a new chapter in my arms, waiting to be shared.**

**A large thank you to my friend, Megan, and to my faithful readers, you have helped much!**

**alright alright, i'm done babbling, start reading, ok?**

**DISCLAIMER: i own nothing but my glorious computer! (hugs computer)**

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_**Part Forty-seven:**_

Rachel's face broke out into a hurried, but pleased smile as she raced from her workroom and nearly bolted down the stairs in time to reach the door. She could hear them bickering happily on the other side; Rachel beamed and opened the door. "Lark! Monsieur Erik! What brings you here?"

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Lark beamed at her friend raced forward towards the stairs. But, she did something strange, as the girl paused hesitantly at the start of the porch, she walked up the stairs slowly, her hand firmly on the snow-covered rail. Erik and Rachel both stared at her curiously as she made her way up. As she came up to the final stair, the girl beamed and threw herself in Rachel's unready arms. "We came to see you and Richard, Rachel!" the child gushed as the woman threw her arms around the girl in a tight hug. She looked up at Erik who came unhesitant up the stairs to join them. "You came to see us?" Rachel asked, surprised. Erik scowled, mouth going characteristically dry and gestured at Lark who released Rachel from her enthusiastic hug.

"This little minx has been after me all morning asking questions." He explained, glaring down at Lark who smiled back up at him. Rachel looked at them both curiously. How she missed having their company to surprise and comfort her with their presence. "Questions?" she echoed, staring at Erik's masked face. He grimaced while Lark suppressed a giggle. "Yes, she has asked if she could ask questions for a Christmas gift." Rachel clapped her hands briefly together in delight. "What a wonderful gift!" she exclaimed, smiling. Erik made a face.

Lark giggled. "Not for Erik!" she chirped and skipped to the open door behind her friend. Erik turned towards Rachel. "May I inquire where your brother is, Mademoiselle?" The woman looked at him, startled that he had spoken. "My brother? Ah! Yes, he's in the study." She gestured them both in the warm house and she smiled hesitantly at the ominous man. "I believe you remember where the study is, Monsieur Erik." He stared at her for a moment then nodded his consent. "Yes, I believe I do. Thank you, Mademoiselle."

"Oh, please don't use such formalities with me," she laughed, blushing, "You may just call me Rachel." He looked stonily at her and she feared she had said something wrong. Fortunately he sighed. "Rachel it is, I guess." Rachel, too, sighed, but in relief. She wouldn't know what to do if she insulted or offended him, she hated making people unhappy. Regrettably after he spoke, there was nothing there but an awkward silence.

"Can we make hot chocolate, Rachel? Richard says you used to make the best!" Lark's happy voice rang through, thankfully cutting the horrid silence off. Rachel turned away from Erik, as his eyes seemed to burn into hers as she tried to look at him, and smiled at the child. "I think we can get away with it!" she said mischievously, relieved for another activity that would keep her busy. She thought too much when she wasn't busy. Erik shook his head and headed upstairs for Richard's study.

Rachel would keep Lark busy enough so that he could actually have another conversation without having to answer a million and two questions.

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Lark looked around the spacious, beautiful kitchen as Rachel bustled around, looking for the chocolate mix. Normally, the girl would be smiling as she absorbed the brilliant paintings and countertops and cupboards, but now she had a small frown crossed along her youthful face. "Lark?" The child started and looked in front of her. Rachel was leaning against the counter, staring at her with concern. Two steaming mugs of rich, hot chocolate sat in front of them.

"Oh! Sorry, Rachel, I was looking at the pretty paintings…" the child blushed and quickly picked up the mug and hastily taking a sip. "Oh, Lark! That's-!" cried Rachel. Lark grimaced in pain; the scorching hot liquid had burnt her tongue. Unfortunately, Lark had let go of the mug when scorched, and it seeped all over the marble countertop. Rachel was up immediately with a dish rag, sopping up the hot liquid before it could go over the edge. She scuttled over to the child's side and helped her over the sink, fussing.

"I-I'm alright, Rachel, really." poor Lark mumbled. Rachel ignored her and filled a glass with ice cold water. "Drink." She demanded. The child meekly obeyed and at once felt relieve as the ice cold water spread in her burning mouth. "Ahh, that's much better," Lark sighed looking grateful. Rachel's tense features relaxed and she hugged the child briefly.

"Sorry for the trouble…" Lark began after she was released; Rachel waved it away. "It's alright, my dear. The good Lord knows it has happened more than once to Richard and I." The child laughed and nodded, relieved. Rachel then smiled mischievously. "Besides," she continued, "I have a brilliant idea to offer!"

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**It truely is brilliant, trust me! XD**


	48. Chapter 48

**Oh my goobers! It's a new update! (SQUEE!) sorry it took so long...I had a busy week...day...month...anywho, the update is here so now get some snacks and read! read! READ!**

**Actually, I look back on all that i've done with this story, and i wanna say that i couldn't have done it without help from my phriend, Megan, and all my wonderful, super, awesomeness readers! (hugs) So thank you!**

**_DISCLAIMER: _I own nothing of Phantom of the Opera. But i _really_ want to...**

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_**Part Forty-eight:**_

Like Rachel had said, Erik remembered well where Richard's study was. Coming up to the handsomely carved wood door, he rapped his fingers against it. "Enter." A weary voice came through the door. Erik silently came in and a tired, flustered looking Richard looked up from his desk that was seeping with loose papers. "Ah! Monsieur Erik!" The familiar jack-o-lantern smile it up the young man's tired face. He got up and went around the desk and shook Erik's hand warmly. "I thought I heard Lark's voice downstairs."

"Yes, she has a very penetrating voice…" Erik smirked as he shook Richard's hand briefly. His host gave him another jack-o-lantern smile and turned back to his desk, sorting some of the loose papers. "Please excuse me," Richard laughed, "But I need to sort these, first." Erik nodded his consent looked around with interest at the study's walls that were covered with intricate paintings. "Are these your sister's?" he questioned curiously, staring up at a painting of a nightingale. Richard looked up at the paintings and nodded his head wearily. "Yes, these are hers. She used to paint so much…"

"'Used?'" Erik echoed, not sure if he heard right. Richard looked at him sadly. "Yes," he said slowly, "she used to do about three a week at least but now…all she does is focus on that one picture." Erik could say nothing to this. Three a week? She must have had plenty of time. Richard shook his head sadly. "I'm getting worried about her, Monsieur." He confessed, "She's too obsessed with it, she doesn't eat as often, she doesn't come out," Richard shrugged helplessly, "She doesn't even sleep most days!" Erik shook his head; surely such a woman as Rachel couldn't let the arts take control…it had happened to Erik with his music.

"How long has she been working on this?" He asked Richard, dreading the answer. His host shrugged and turned back to his papers. "Long enough." There was a silence, not awkward, just quiet. Richard then smiled slightly. "Although, she has been getting better, with Lark and yourself visiting us." Erik's eyebrows rose with surprise. He shook his head, the hard lump his throat returning with a vengeance. "I don't believe that, much, Monsieur…" Erik trailed off. The young man just smiled. "Ah, but it is true, my friend!" he sighed. "My sister has been more sociable when you both come over. She's fond of your company."

Erik stared at the painting of the nightingale. "I'm glad we can help…" he murmured uncomfortably. Richard peered at the older man thoughtfully. "Yes…"

Luckily, the door of the study was thrown open and Lark skipped in followed by a beaming Rachel. The girl scuttled over to Richard and gave him a hug to which he squeezed her, lightly, back. "Rich! Erik!" she squealed, almost dancing back to Erik's side. "Rachel and I have the most fabulous idea!" Their host and guest looked back and forth between the women, one with a bemused look and one glaring at Lark.

"What did you do?" Erik demanded through his teeth as he glared at the young girl. Lark beamed up at him and squeezed his hand but said nothing. Rachel then blushed and started, unconsciously, to twirl her long hair in her hands. "Well, sister?" inquired her brother. She looked at Lark. "Do you want to tell them, dear?" Richard looked blankly between them.

"Alright!" Lark clapped her hands together and turned to Erik. "Did you know there is an event every New Year at the Opera?" He grimaced, how could he not? Taking that as a yes, Lark continued. "Well me and Ra- er, _Rachel and me _have decided it would be fun to go together!" Erik blanched as Richard's weary face lit up once again into an over-large jack-o-lantern smile. Rachel beamed and looked eagerly at her brother. "Wouldn't it be good for us, brother?" she insisted, tugging his sleeve.

Richard looked down at his older sister, even though he was the youngest, he was still taller than her. Her bright, sapphire eyes sparkled with excitement as she beamed up at him while Erik and Lark bickered characteristically behind them. "It would give us a chance to get out once and a while." She said, smiling. Richard sighed then grinned, glancing at the quarreling two. "It would indeed."

Erik gave Lark his best withering look. "A _ball_?" he hissed. "You want us to go to the New Year's _ball?_" She tugged on his sleeve while chirping, "Aw, but it would be so much fun, Erik!" He scowled heavily his golden eyes flashing. "No! We're not-!"

"Don't tell me we are only allowed to take Lark with us, Monsieur Erik?" Rachel suddenly appeared at his side, her hand unconsciously touching his as they hung by his side. The hard lump came back with a vengeance as Erik found himself staring into Rachel's bright blue eyes. He tried unsuccessfully to swallow past it, and was able to mutter, "Er." She suddenly beamed, nearly blinding him. "Oh, is that all you can say?"

Erik couldn't find his voice. "Um…" Lark bubbled up next to them and seized his hand, rocking it back and forth. "Please, Erik?" Both females begged him with large eyes. He glanced at Richard who shrugged, smiling. Erik sighed.

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**It really does get hard to writ now adays, cause unfortunately we are nearing the finish line. (tear)**

**Reviews are lovingly appreciated:D**


	49. Chapter 49

**Again, I must first apologize. Apart from the internet being stupid, parents putting restrictions, and plain old Errors, I haven't been able to type, post, etc. etc. But I thank all my readers for reviewing and giving HUGE boosters. Thanks:D**

**Anyways, I have gotten complaints that my chapters are too short. Well I can't help it. Really, I would LOVE to make them HUGE, but then I can't update as much cause it takes longer to type 'em up. So I hope you don't mind that I shall be sticking with short chapters, though I will encrease them to at least 1,000 words per chapter.**

**_DISCLAIMER:_ I don't own anything of Phantom, though I own my ERIK PLUSHIE!!! (SQUEE!!!) **

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_Part Forty-nine:_

"I can't believe you dragged me into this." Erik looked around his room with horrified, far off eyes. They had left Richard's home and had planned to meet each other at the Masquerade ball. Near the entrance hall they would get together; for they all had to get ready. Lark brushed past Erik eagerly and started to paw through his wardrobe. "It'll be fun, Erik!" she insisted happily, observing the clothing. Erik found a seat and sank into it, his legs unable to hold him up any longer. "Fun?" he croaked, "What fun?"

The young girl didn't answer, but dug relentlessly in the closet, pushing past different styles and colors. Erik groaned and placed his masked face in his hands. "God, why'd I say 'yes'? I could have easily said 'no'!" He glanced up at Lark. "What are you doing?" She shifted past a blue vest and turned to her guardian. "Well you don't seem to be able to pick out a costume by yourself." He glared at her until she smirked and turned back to the closet, peering closer to the cloth in front of her. "I am very capable to dress myself." Erik muttered darkly. "I don't need help."

"You sure?" she replied absentmindedly. Erik ground his teeth together and got up, brushing past her. "Yes." He said curtly, pushing her gently out of the way. Lark wasn't ready to be pushed as she stumbled back with her familiar "WAHH!" of surprise and shock. Quick as lightning, Erik's arm shot out and gripped hers; pulling her back up before she could hit the floor. "What is wrong with you?" he snapped. "Can't you see anything?" Hurt filled her green eyes as she avoided his smoldering gaze. "I-I'm sorry…Erik." She looked away, shamefacedly and bit her lower lip. Instant remorse filled him as he got on one knee down to her level. Placing his hands lightly on her shoulders, he searched for her eyes.

"Lark, look at me." He commanded softly. Hesitantly, the girl locked her eyes with his then avoided them, looking down at her feet. Erik bit his lip. How could he apologize…? "I'm sorry." He said finally. "I'm sorry I snapped at you." Lark sniffed once and looked up at him with hazy eyes. Erik grimaced, he hated it when anyone cried, and continued. It's not your fault. I'm just…irritated right now." She nodded and suddenly threw her arms around him in a tight embrace. Erik started instantly, his whole body stiffening as she hugged him. He was still unused to this sort of affection. "I know I should be more careful." She whispered in his ear. "And I should not go around deciding things when I have no right to."

"So true." She drew away from him in surprise as he smirked. Lark's face burst into a large smile as she whacked his shoulder lightly. "Meanie!" she laughed, torn between being amused and being outraged. Erik merely sighed and got to his feet. "So are you going to pick out anything or not?" Lark looked up at him, confused. "Huh?" Erik crossed his arms and scowled down at her in annoyance. "You don't think I will honestly go to this event?" He snorted. "There are other things I can be doing than making a fool of myself." It was Lark's turn to scowl as she placed her hands on her hips. "Like what?"

"Like what?" Erik echoed. "Well like…" He stopped and tried to start again. "Like…um…" Lark smiled triumphantly as Erik tried unsuccessfully to come up with an excuse. He glared at her. "You don't need to know a reason. Only that I do not wish to go!" How could he want to go? The last time he had gone to the New Year's Masquerade…Erik shuddered on the spot. It had been a horrible night even if he had seemed like he was in control. Cold and impassive he came, and trembling and wretched he left. "Erik?" A small, tremulous voice broke through his burdened thoughts causing him to look down on the child's concerned face. He had worried her again.

"I'm just...thinking." He muttered, turning from her. Lark made a face and turned her attention to the wardrobe. "You think too much, Erik." She grumbled as she pulled out a golden costume. Pulling the costume out fully, the child skipped up to her guardian and held the clothing up to him. "I think this would be alright." Erik peered down at the costume in disgust and pushed it away. "I told you," he snarled, "I will not be going!" Lark looked up at him with scorn, an unusual look to be placed on a thirteen-year-old's face. Erik glared back with venom. "What?"

"You promised Rachel." He stared at her. "What?" he repeated, this time with confusion. Lark looked at him sadly. "You promised them you would go. You said 'yes,' remember?" Erik ground his teeth and looked away. Damn his promises! "You're going to make Rachel sad…" the child said pithily. He glared down at her, wiping away all emotion from his face. "So?" he replied coldly, though he would rather bite his tongue off for such cruel words. Lark stared at him. "So… you refuse to go?" Erik remained silent. "I won't gloat if you change your mind." She said brightly. Erik gave the child a long look before walking up and snatching the costume out of her hands. "Fine." He said. "I shall go. But only for a short time, understand?"

With waiting for an answer, Erik gently pushed her out of the room. "Go get something on." Lark turned to him and smiled. "Thank you, Erik!" she chirped happily, skipping down to her own room. He rolled his eyes and pulled the door closed, glaring at the costume. "Damn."

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**Poor Erik and I need some reviews to survive this crisis. XD**


	50. Chapter 50

**Aaaand here we are at the big 5 O! I'm so happy with myself. I'm planning to end the series at 60 at least...BUT I shall avoid that unpleasant topic and give you (drumroll please) _the_ longest chapter I have written! I could make it longer, but I want to stretch the story out a little more. It's already depressing that it's ending soon...**

**_DISCLAIMER: _I don't own Phantom (tear) **

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_Part Fifty_

"Ah! Lark, you look so wonderful!" With a rustle of blue silk, a gorgeously, yet still modestly dressed woman swooped down and hugged Lark tightly. The child's muffled reply was barely heard in Rachel's embrace. "Thank you, Rachel." The woman held out her arms to observe the child with fond eyes. "I like your mask, dear." She commented, touching the black porcelain cheek. Lark's face wasn't visible, but her eyes crinkled with a hidden smile. "Yes. It was my…my mama's." Rachel smiled sadly at the child behind her own sapphire blue mask, equally blue feathers decorating its surface. "It suits you." She said finally. Lark looked around, curiously, her eyes squinting slightly.

"There's so many people!" she gasped, delightedly. "We can blend in like no one's business…" Lark turned to Rachel. "Where's Richard?" She asked curiously, missing her old friend's company. The older woman sighed irritably and jerked her head towards the ballroom, where multicolored peoples in costumes with flashing masks whirled together in different dances. "He went to go meet some ladies." She said, her eyes flashing disapprovingly. Lark smoldered a giggle. "He's horrible at that," she reminded her companion, jokingly. Rachel could only shake her head. "I hope so." She muttered, taking out a pale blue fan with darker lace trimming.

Rachel fanned herself and Lark noticed she was slightly pink in the cheeks. "Were you dancing before we came, Rachel?" the girl questioned, staring up at her. Rachel smirked and nodded. "Only with Richard." She said dryly, "Apparently he wanted to show off his dancing skills." Looking around the room with awe, Lark's black and gold dress made lovely swishing sounds as she twirled. She laughed at the sound, and twirled around happily, enjoying how the dress's bottom half fanned out across the floor like a wave on a beach. "Lark, dear," Rachel started, her cheeks becoming red, "where is Monsieur Erik…?" The child looked up from the floor. "Hmm? Oh!" Lark grinned and pointed to the pillar behind them. "Erik's moping behind there."

"So you did get him to join us!" Rachel squealed childishly, clapping her hands together. "Oh, well done! I honestly thought that man would avoid such festivities. Well done, well done!" Rachel sounded impressed, causing Lark to beam with pride. Suddenly a dark, ominous voice came from behind the woman. "It is not like I exactly had a _choice._" Rachel gasped and quickly turning around, nearly bumping noses with none other than Erik. "Oh!" she murmured as she took a quick step back, cheeks aflame, "You surprised me…um…well….don't you look nice." He scowled while Lark smiled cheekily beside Rachel. Dressed from head to foot in a fabulous gold suit with a dark black/gold vest with gold buttons and equally gold pants, Erik looked like some sort of Greek God or messenger. A matching gold mask covering his whole face.

"So everyone tells me." He grumbled, a pained look searing across his amber eyes. Lark skipped to his side and took his hand, swinging it cheerfully. "I picked it out for myself," she chirped, "now no one who ever knew you would recognize you!" Rachel hid a small smile behind her fan as she gazed, amused at their golden companion. "I can't believe I went through this," he groaned, ignoring Lark. "How could I be so stupi-?" Rachel cut in suddenly, surprising both her companions and herself. "Do you like dancing, Erik?" she blurted out. His eyes snapped to her face, filled with horror and confusion. "What?" he asked, though one could tell he had heard her before. Lark looked back and forth between both adults, eyes wide with surprised pleasure. Rachel's cheeks flushed crimson as she mumbled quietly, wishing to escape, "I was wondering if you liked dancing…."

"Ah." Erik shifted uncomfortably. "Yes. Dancing." Rachel peered at him over her fan. "Can you dance…?" Erik's eyes closed briefly, as though he were wishing desperately to be gone from the hall, and then opened to fix themselves on the woman before him. "Er…yes. Yes, I believe so…." His voice trailed off as Lark giggled quietly, staring at them with eager anticipation. "Wonderful!" said Rachel, breathlessly, "then…would you…" she hid her face behind the fan's lace trimming. "Like to dance…with me…?" His jaw went slack behind his mask. Then, regaining his composure, Erik opened his mouth to respond but Lark jabbed him in the stomach to grab his attention. He looked down at her, glaring. "What?" he hissed, irritably. "Erik!" she said smiling, "If you're not going to dance, we can go over to the refreshments, if you want." Erik looked over in the direction of were the child was pointing.

About ten to fifteen young women were giggling together, simply teeming around the refreshment table. Erik felt rather faint. There was no way he would go over there, but then he'd have to… Turning to Rachel he smiled weakly. "Alright. Fine." Lark beam was so large, it almost mirrored Richard's own far too wide smile. The woman's eyes widened with pleased shock behind her fan. "Really…?" she asked, turning red all over. "Wonderful!" She timidly outstretched a gloved hand, which Erik took in his, handling it like glass. Suddenly Rachel was a beacon of confidence as she grasped his hand firmly and led him out to the dance floor, her face all smiles. Lark waved slightly as Erik turned back to glare at her. "Have fun, Erik!" she cried happily.

"So what are you going to do?" A lowered voice came from out behind her. Quick as lightning, Lark spun around….only to sigh with relief as Richard stood in front of her in a sinister costume of dark green and silver. He smiled at her, no mask covering his face. "Ah, Lark, you're getting so big!" He exclaimed in a falsetto voice, widening his eyes for effect. She made a face at him, but remembered her mask covered any emotion, however, he still laughed. "Oh, I can always tell when you're making a face!" he explained, amused. Lark stamped her foot childishly. "You know me too well!" she complained. Richard snickered and then looked out at the dance floor. "Is that who I think it is…?" He asked, pointing at Erik and Rachel. Lark only smiled.

"You dance wonderfully, Erik!" Rachel laughed as they twirled. He barely looked at her, but kept sending death glares over at Lark who was smiling… "Oh, perfect." He groaned through gritted teeth. Rachel looked curiously at him. "What is it?" Erik gestured with his head over to where the child was…with Richard smiling at them. "You're brother's watching." Rachel rolled her eyes and, once again, hesitantly adjusted her hand resting in his. Hers felt small in his firm grip. "You worry too much, Erik, about him. He's nothing." She scoffed, trying to take her mind off the pressure of his hand around her waist. It was rather flustering. Erik finally turned his now gold eyes on her with an amused expression reflecting in them. "You are not fond of your brother." He spoke it more as a statement, not a question. Rachel shrugged as they danced. "I suppose," she started slowly, "that it is not that I am not fond of him. I merely find him silly."

Erik only grunted. "Hmn." He couldn't talk too much; his voice seemed to fail him most of the time. Plus, he had to concentrate on dancing, for all the times he had watched couples dance; he had never tried the activity himself. Rachel would sometimes correct him on his grip or footing, but it was rare and she seemed to be enjoying herself. 'What am I getting into these days?' Erik sighed to himself. It was very distracting, having to keep his hand on Rachel's waist, and even more of a hassle to not run away and hide himself down in the cellars. "I hate the cellars." He grumbled out loud, unaware he had spoken loud enough to be heard by his partner. Rachel laughed, startling him out of his thoughts. "You hate the cellars, hmm?" she giggled, but not girlishly. Erik blushed, hating his wagging tongue more and more. "I best not let you down into ours. They're a horrible mess!" Rachel told him smiling, still laughing to herself.

Erik found that a small grin was tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Sounds like my house before Lark came in." he replied, thinking of how messy his lair was before the child came with her cleaning abilities. Rachel laughed again; a pleasant sound. "Goodness, aren't we a pair?" she exclaimed. Erik decided not to answer that. His throat had clogged again.

Lark sat down beside Erik, her little face hot and red behind her mask. "Whew!" she sighed, fanning herself unsuccessfully with her hand. "What a tiring experience!" Erik didn't say anything, but continued to sip from the glass of wine Rachel had so kindly fetched for him when they had finished dancing. "I mean," Lark continued, "everybody's always moving! It's so fast!" She squinted into the crowds, looking for Richard and Rachel who had gone off to, once again, dance together so that the ladies could admire the male sibling. Rachel had grumbled the whole way out to the dance floor, saying she would much rather spend time with Erik and Lark. 'She wanted to spend time with me…' Erik thought, bemused, his eyes far away.

"Erik?" Lark poked his shoulder. "Are you there?" He looked at her with a scowl, even though she couldn't see it. "Stop that. I can hear you fine." He grumbled. She removed her mask and carefully set it on her lap before looking up at her grumpy guardian with a smile. "How did the dancing go?" Lark asked. "You looked wonderful out there." Erik's face went hot under his own mask as he avoided her question. "Did you do any dancing, Lark?" The girl's face fell slightly but her smile remained on her face. "No," she admitted, "I haven't really done any dancing. I'm too clumsy." He studied her carefully as she stared out into the whirling mess of the dancers, a longing expression in her sea green eyes. Perhaps….

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**Sighs I need a review and a cookie...(the writer is sad about...the end)**


	51. Chapter 51

**Ah, chapter 51. I can only look back and say, "wow, i've written a lot." Anyways, I'm so happy and so sad at the same time. For this chapter and the ones to follow are part of the end. Such a sad subject, but it will come.**

**_DISCLAIMER: _I will never own Phantom of the Opera...unless I buy it somehow...hmmm...**

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**_Part Fifty-one_**

"Do you want to dance, Lark?" Erik asked her. The child turned her wide eyes over to him, her mouth parted slightly in surprise. "Really?" she asked breathlessly, sounding a lot like Rachel did; so surprised of his offer. He smirked and stood up, bowing slightly. "But of course, Mademoiselle." He said, his eyes flashing wickedly. "I always wanted to dance with such a clumsy, I mean, lovely lady." Her face flushed but she got up, determined not to let him get away with his tricks. "Alright." She said, "Let's dance!" Erik took her small hand in his as his arm snaked around her tiny waist. Lark rested her free hand on his side, since she couldn't reach his tall shoulder. Finally, she perched her feet on top of his shoes. He gave her an odd look. "This way I won't trip us both," she explained, grinning. Rolling his eyes, Erik glided them both onto the dance floor as a quick, energetic song broke out.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Admit it, Richard," Rachel sighed as they twirled around, "you aren't going to impress anyone but Lark, and that poor girl hasn't seen anyone dance before." Richard rolled his eyes and picked up the pace gracefully as the song quickened. "You seem so sure of yourself," he grumbled, used to her taunts. It was her turn to roll her eyes. "Of course I am!" she exclaimed, "After all, I am the oldest." Other dancers flew by and Richard twirled his sister elegantly and snapped her back in his grasp with ease. "Oldest," he said mildly, "but not always the smartest." Rachel made a face at him and spun around her sibling to face another dancer who twirled her once and sent her back to Richard. "At least I'm not using my sibling to grab attention," she hissed. Richard only tipped her back with smooth, joining movements and brought her back up. "Why can't you just admit I'm a good dancer?" he sighed.

"Never," she replied, "I have my pride." Dipping her again, he lifted her slightly, spinning in the other direction. "You have too much pri-.." he started to complain, but Rachel interrupted him. "Isn't that Lark and Erik…?" Richard looked over in her direction and was amazed to see Lark balancing perfectly on his feet, Erik doing all the dancing. "Well, isn't that something…?" he smiled his too-wide smile cheerily. Rachel grinned and watched them bicker companionably together as they danced. "Richard," she began hesitantly. Her sibling looked at her while spinning them both. "Yes…?" They separated quickly to let another couple swing by before snapping back together. Rachel smiled mischievously at Richard. "Want to try that 'switch partners' technique?" He mirrored her smile. "We shall." He said, turning their direction towards their friends.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"You are a good dancer, Lark." Erik said. She made a face at him as they sashayed between two groups. "You're the only one who's dancing." She reminded him. He looked thoughtful. "Oh, I suppose that is right," he murmured, "I guess I better get all the praise." Lark snorted as Erik snickered to himself, surprisingly enjoying himself. How could it be, he mused silently, that at one point he had almost nothing to live for? Erik looked down at the young child in his grasp as they danced. She, he realized, was his light in his dark world. She brought him out; made him look into what was the once harsh light of the world above his. The way the child laughed and smiled, it brought a hidden smile to his face. Lark was a happy one, and it was contagious. For even though he would be irritable and mocking, she accepted that and held his hand, ignoring his scowls and groans. "Thank you." He said slowly, the words rusty and unused in his speech.

"Huh?" Lark looked up at him with confused eyes. Suddenly, a switch happened. Not anything like with gas lamps, but with the dancers' partners. Lark found herself in the arms of Richard, and when looking back with surprised glee, she found that Erik had wound up with Rachel. "You're good," she told Richard. He beamed at her and lifted her onto his feet, gliding away. Meanwhile Erik could only stare blankly at his new partner while she laughed merrily. "Oh, so he _is_ good at that technique!" she said, smiling. Erik spun her automatically with the dance, but gave her a quizzical stare. "What happened…?" He asked, bemused. Rachel grinned at him readjusted their stature. "Richard and I wanted to see if he could do a dancing technique!" she said cheerily, "So you were our guinea pigs!" Erik scowled behind his gold mask and picked her up, swirling her once before landing her gently on the ground again.

"Oh joy." He said sourly. Rachel peered at him, concerned. "We…we didn't bother you, did we?" she asked timidly. She didn't mean to make him mad, she just wanted…what did she want? Rachel fell silent, the music sounding so far away. Erik, however, sighed and shook his head. "No," he murmured, "no, I'm not bothered. Just…surprised." She looked positively brighter as they danced. "Does it take much to surprise you?" she asked curiously. He shrugged and looked back at Richard and Lark, who laughed and smiled at him before disappearing back into the crowds. "Not really." He answered, eyes squinting after the retreating couple. "Heh." Rachel laughed softly, "You seemed like a very easy person to surprise." Erik turned back to her, his gold eyes pained. "What am I, now?" he complained. "I can't even keep my own character together without someone changing it." The song ended splendidly and many of the dancers stopped to clap loudly. Erik immediately released Rachel from his hold and took a respectful step back.

"Attention!" A loud, booming voice echoed around the dance hall. "May I have your attention, please, ladies and gentlemen?" Rachel and Erik both looked towards the stairs where the new manager was standing in a bright costume of sky blue, yellow pompoms decorating the entire suit. Erik smirked. "He looks like a piece of the sky fell out," he whispered, loud enough only to be heard by Rachel. "Birds and all." Rachel hid her smile behind her fan and respectfully gave the manager of the Opera her attention. The entire hall quieted and all eyes were turned to the man. He beamed. "Thank you," he said, "I have chosen this time to introduce you all to the Opera Populair's largest patron." He paused as if to draw more dramatic air to the room and its inhibitors. "I wonder who…?" Rachel turned to Erik only to fall silent. He was pale as death behind his mask, his eyes widened with pain and….was it fear…? "Erik…?" Rachel whispered, worry flooding her body. He didn't reply, but stood as still as a stone statue.

"Put your hands together, ladies and gentlemen," continued the manager, not noticing that someone in his audience was desolate. "For our patron, Monsieur Raoul de Chagny and his wife, Madame Christine De Chagny!" Applause burst out of the audience as a tall, youngish man came forward; his blond hair pulled back with a dark blue satin ribbon, matching his dark blue navy suit, his wife at his elbow. She was beautiful with large, chocolate brown doe eyes, flowing dark brown hair elegantly pulled up in the latest fashion, in a low necked, gorgeous purple silk dress. Her face was full of beauty, innocence, and childish mirth. She smiled at her husband who clasped his hand over her own and smiled back encouragingly. Just as she always was…back then. Back then when she was just a chorus girl, with an angel's voice, and an Angel of Music to teach her soul to soar.

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**I was planning to bring in Christine sooner or later. Review and tell me what you think! They reeeaallly help!!**


	52. Chapter 52

**And we're down for the count down (tear) Thank you readers, for your reviews and your fudge! (eats fudge) it really payed off for all of you!**

**And now, the new chapter, number 52!**

**_D(SCLAIMER:_ I will never own Phantom of the Opera. there. i said it, happy?? **

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_Part Fifty-two:_

He couldn't breathe. God, this couldn't be happening. Erik felt weak, small, and hopeless as he stared up at her. Christine. She was as beautiful as he remembered; no, better, his imagination could never make up something so pure, so perfect. He loved her. Of course, he still loved her. What mistake Erik made was forgetting how much. His pounded with a million aching, pains, and joys as he gazed at his Angel. He felt as though he could both fly, and sink deep into the earth, never to be seen ever again. Erik could barely hear Rachel whispering his name over and over, the worry in her voice heading to hysterics; he couldn't even hear the manager as he greeted the de Chagny's with genuine pleasure. He couldn't hear. Did he want to hear…? All he wanted to do was stare at them. God…. Erik felt as though someone had nailed his feet to the floor. Oh no…her head, Christine's head…it was heading in his direction. He held his breath as though it would make him invisible. What would happen if…? Should he move away? Should he, should he, should he?

It was too late to do anything as Christine's glamorous head turned, and found Erik's face. The healthy, pink coloring drained from her pretty face to leave it white as a sheet and her eyes widened to even larger proportions as disbelief spread across her features. She saw him! Suddenly, cut from the rope, he was free from his prison. Erik found his legs again and without a word to Rachel, he disappeared between the couples, running through them agilely, miraculously avoiding collision. "God…" he rasped hoarsely. He had to find Lark. He had to find her and get out. Get out and leave the pain….the unimaginable pain! He looked wildly across the room, searching low for she was such a small girl. How could he find her…? There! Over there in the far corner! Lark was resting against the wall, staring with awe at the couple on the top of the stairs. Christine. Was she looking…? Erik swallowed hard and did a quick head turn. God! She was still looking at him as though she'd seen a ghost.

"Lark…!" he called out, stumbling over to her, gasping even though he did not run far. She looked up with such innocence and unawareness that he wanted to cry. "Erik! There you are! We were wondering where you whe-…Erik?" she looked at him with shock. "Are you alright..?" He shook his head frantically and grabbed her hand, running to the exit. She stumbled slightly, but quickly matched his pace. "Erik..!" she cried, her voice afraid. "Where are we going…?" Erik didn't answer, but ran harder, out into the cold air. Out into the snowed streets, out around the Opera House…quickly! Quickly! Suddenly he felt a hard jerk backwards and he nearly sprawled onto his back. Lark had held him back, her heels digging into the ground. "Erik!" she cried. "Erik, look at me, please!" He turned wildly to look at her, all the fear, all the pain echoing out of his entire being. Lark's face was pale with fright as she looked him over. "What's wrong…?" she asked him, reaching out for him. He didn't see her though.

They couldn't stop now. His mind was racing furiously. What if Christine told someone he was here? Would she send the mob of men after him? What if they came after him again…? That group of unfeeling, soulless men that might follow….Erik wasn't afraid of them, nor of the death that they carried, but he just stared and stared at the young girl before him. They would hurt Lark. They were soulless enough to harm anyone that was with him. They would either hurt Lark to get to him, or kill him off and come after her. No! That couldn't happen! He wouldn't let it. They would get out….yes. They would go to the house and take whatever they needed to flee. They would flee. No. Lark wouldn't be able to keep up. She didn't deserve a life of running away. Erik thought back to Rachel and Richard. He would leave Lark with them. They were like family to her and she would be safe. Then he would leave, the mob would surely follow. He would make sure they would follow. "Erik!" Lark finally yelled, throwing herself around him. "What's wrong?" He looked down at her pale, frightened face. Mobs were quick. They had to hurry. "Come." He finally said, pulling her along.

"No!" she cried out, angrily. "No, I want to know what's wrong! Right now!" Erik turned to her despairingly but was caught by the fear and anger that echoed in her eyes; but then they softened as she grabbed his hand timidly. "Please," she begged, "Please tell me what's wrong." He shook his head, though, and tugged her more gently towards the Rue Scribe. "I will tell you," he said hurriedly, "but we have to get back home first, immediately." Lark was so confused. Why was he so afraid…? Was it the two people that had come into the ball room? The Vicomte and the Vicomtess? Now that she thought about it, the woman had looked almost like…. "Erik?" she asked. He didn't look at her, but opened the Rue Scribe's door and led them inside; their steps rushed. Lark wouldn't give up, though. As soon as they were in the boat, she leaned forward and looked him straight in the eye. "Erik." She demanded.

Erik glanced up at her from the oars with pained eyes. "What?" he said, glancing back at the retreating shore. Lark fumbled with the corner of her dampened dress, frowning slightly. "Why did you run?" she asked curiously, "What frightened you?" He sighed heavily, but continued to row. "I guess…bad memories got me…shocked." Erik muttered, refusing to believe he was scared. Though his head was still pounding, his heart had slowed with the lack of threat. Perhaps Christine had already forgotten her quick view of him….perhaps she was upstairs dancing with that boy….forgetting her Angel and the ugly past that accompanied him. Perhaps she'll think it was a dream….a hallucination….then think nothing more of it and leave Erik by himself again…. "Erik?" Lark's little voice broke him out of the dark murk that surrounded his mind. "Erik, are you there?" He looked up at her to find her face creased with worry. "I'm fine." He lied between his teeth. He would have to stop worrying her. He would have to make her safe. Thankfully, she didn't question anymore, but looked straight ahead, nibbling on her lower lip.

Erik's hurried condition was still with him that as they bumped into the shore that he leaped up and nearly threw Lark out of the boat while helping her out. Leaping out himself, he turned to the child who was staring at him with confusion. "Erik," she started, but he interrupted. "Lark, get all your things." He said quickly, "Leave anything you don't need and put your stuff in the boat." He started towards the house, almost running into the doors. "Erik!" Lark cried, racing after him. "Why? What's going on?" A slam told her that he had already gone into his own room. Feeling confused and scared, Lark hurried to his door and eased it open. Erik was strutting around, clutching his head, muttering frantically under his breath. "Oh God, not now. Not here! Why, why, why??" He turned and spotted Lark by the door. "Lark!" he stormed, familiar irritation filling his voice. "Knock before you enter!" She bowed humbly. "Sorry, Erik." She murmured, looking up at him with narrowed eyes; not because of the dim light. "I just…I mean….What's happening? Why are we leaving?"

Erik sighed. Perhaps he was right….perhaps she _did_ forget…. "I guess it doesn't matter anymore," he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "I…well…we're fine. We…we don't have to leave, I guess." Lark sighed with relief. "You scared me." She admitted, clinging to the doorframe. He looked at her through the gold mask. "I'm sorry." He sighed again, shoulders drooping. "You can go to bed now. Everything's….alright." She nodded hesitantly and headed out, closing the door behind her. Erik sank onto the top of the coffin, discarding his mask. What were they going to do?

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**What indeed? (tear) reviews are like tissues for our crying little hearts...(well, they help, anyways...)**


	53. Chapter 53

**SQUEE! Thank you all for your reviews! They make me so happy! For your devotion and praise, I shall be giving you all...a cookie! (gets clobbered) Ow...ow...alright! Alright! Here's your update! (goes off in search of band-aids)**

**_DISCLAIMER:_ I do not own Phantom of the Opera. (sighs) do you have to rub it in???? **

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_Part Fifty-three:_

Lark tossed and turned in her bed, her mind chock full of worries. What was wrong with Erik? What was he talking about leaving? Why did they run off without saying goodbye to Rachel and Richard? She hoped they weren't angry with them… Lark rested her cheek against the wood paneling of the bed's end. She tried to focus her eyes on the candle that sat silent and alone on her bedside. This was beginning to look bad for her. Everything was going in her sight….all was fuzzy and dim. She could barely see the candle's bright little flame. She feared the worst. But surely it wouldn't leave her….not tonight! The child sat up, clinging to the wooden pole. "Eriiiiik!"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Rachel could only stare helplessly as Erik suddenly gasped, going paler than a sheet. Paler, paler, all color around his gold eyes leaving his face. Fear and pain entered his emotion rank as he gasped for breathe. What was wrong with him…? "Rachel?" a hand tapped her arm and she looked up into Richard's concerned eyes. She had been replaying the scene over and over of Erik going so pale from….was it fright? It had only happened about ten minutes ago, and the woman was furious that she had not gone after him to see what was wrong. "Rachel? Where did Lark go?" Richard asked her again, looking worried. He had removed his mask and it hung limply from his hand. Rachel shrugged helplessly. "I think she went off with…Erik," she said uncomfortably. "He said, well not technically _said_, that they had to leave." Richard raised an eyebrow and started to question further but was interrupted by the joyous music blasting through. The dancing had restarted again. "We'll see them afterwards," Richard muttered, taking his sibling into his arms to dance. "Lark said she wanted another carriage ride before we left…" Rachel nodded, smiling slightly. "She'll never let us go before she gets her ride." She laughed. Richard only shrugged and twirled her. "Still I wonder what was wrong…" he mused. Rachel glanced at the Vicomte and his wife warily.

"I wonder…" she murmured.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Erik had finally calmed his frantic heart into beating more normally, though it jumped speeds whenever he heard a small sound. Changed out of his gaudy costume, he donned his night cloths of a black kimono with satin lapels. His hair was tied hastily out of his face with a black ribbon as he plucked up his regular full-faced white mask and fastened it on his face. Sighing, relieved only so, he settled himself at the organ and stared at the pile of papers. Underneath the music, there was a single drawing of a lady. He drew it not so long ago when there was no Lark to accompany him in his dreary lifestyle. No. Erik tugged the drawing out and stared at the lovely woman looking back at him. Christine Daae, how truly lovely she truly was. His sketching never did her justice. He sighed heavily and set the paper aside and rubbed his temples. They really should move out of here away from the Opera. He leaned back. Perhaps they would leave tomorrow, he and Lark; he was foolish to think they could continue to live down here in the house. Too many people knew were it was now, and Erik would not put Lark in any more danger.

"Eriiiiik!" Lark's timorous voice broke through his thoughts, bringing him back into the present. She was calling him? He paused, listening again not sure if he had heard correctly. Again the wail came again, more urgently. "_Eriiiiiiik_!" Erik was on his feet in moments and striding quickly to her room. Poking his head in he saw that she was already dressed in her nightshift and was clinging to the bed's pole with tight, whitened fingers. "Lark..?" he questioned, walking over to her side. She glanced towards his voice, eyes scanning back and forth for a moment, searching before settling on his masked face. He noticed that the child was squinting quite a lot these days… Her face, however, relaxed at the sound of his voice and as he approached she reached out a small hand towards him. Erik took it gently in his own, not sure of what to do. "What is wrong?" he asked, peering into her squinted eyes. Her hand was surprisingly cool and shaky, as if she had been terribly frightened. "Erik." She sighed, smiling, eyes widening to regular size.

A slither of irritation slipped into his mood. "Is there anything wrong?" he asked curtly, "Or may I go back to my work?" Lark's lips trembled as she attempted a small smile. "I'm scared." She whispered, shamefaced. Erik immediately crouched down to her level. "What are….you afraid of?" he asked her seriously, dread filling him once again. She bit her lip and refused to meet his eyes. Instead, she traced one of his thin hands with her free one, following one of the few larger veins with an unsteady finger. By instinct, he would have drawn away, but he managed to stay put as he stared at her, puzzled and worried. "I…" she started softly, "I'm afraid…you're going to leave….me." she mumbled. "I don't…" tears started to spill down her face. "…want you to leave!" Erik stared at her with surprise as she cried, her tears falling like pearls onto her lap and his hands. "Lark," he began uncomfortably, "Look at me, please." She raised her head, face streaked with falling tears. "I'm not…" he fumbled with her small hands in between his, "…going to leave you. Ever. I don't want to, I don't need to." Suddenly the child threw her arms around him, sobbing. "Promise?"

Awkwardly, Erik entwined his arms around her, finishing the embrace. "I promise." He vowed quietly. Releasing him, Lark sat back in her bed, crawling underneath its covers. "Erik…" she whispered. He looked at her. "Yes…?" She twisted the bed covers in her fingers. "Never mind…" she said finally, snuggling deeper in the blankets with a sigh. Erik shrugged and got up, turning to the candle to blow it out. "Oh! Erik, don't blow it out, please!" Lark cried, grabbing his sleeve anxiously. He turned to her, prying her fingers gently off the black silk. "Alright," he said, looking at her oddly, "I won't." She smiled at him, relieved and closed her eyes. "Thank you," she sighed. Erik eyed her strangely for a moment before turning his back on the child and exiting her room, closing the door behind him. She should be fine tonight, and tomorrow they would leave together…perhaps find another Opera house to haunt. He smirked at his own joke then shook his head, tired. He never wanted to step foot in any Opera house ever again. "But now…" he murmured, "to my wor-…" He was cut off as he stepped into the Louise Philippe room. Erik felt his heart speed up double time and his eyes widened to beyond comprehension. "Oh God…" he breathed, all terror refilling him to the brim.

Christine got up from her chair at the table, looking back at him unsteadily, like she wasn't sure she was really seeing him. "Erik." She whispered.

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**Reviews helped soooo much! I'd apreciate them again! Thank you alls, and you really all get a cookie! (::) that's your cookie! now eat it and review to get another!**


	54. Chapter 54

**I deeply apologize for the wait. Things have been busy around here and it didn't help that I had a band trip to go to in CA...(grrr) ANYWAYS...That and my internet connection has been stupid again and turns off often. Luckily it was on and I am able to bring you the next chappy! WOO!**

**_DISCLAIMER: _I do not own Phantom of the Opera...but I own my story so for that I am happy! **

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_Part Fifty-four:_

"Christine…!" Erik gasped, the air seemingly disappearing from his lungs as though he had received a sharp blow to the chest. His hand clasped over his heart as it sped through its frantic beats, trying to get his hot blood through his body. He felt extremely hot, yet amazingly cold as he stared and stared at his Angel. Christine. She smiled faintly as she stared at him. "I thought…you were dead." She confessed suddenly. Erik's legs felt like jelly as he grasped a chair for support. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening! "So Madame Giry did put the ad in the _L'Epoque_'s obituary," he mused, blank minded, "I shall have to thank her…." Christine's eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Why?" she asked him. "Why would you put that in if you aren't dead?" Pain slashed through his gut as he stared at her coldly, frantically trying to recover himself. He would not be seen as a babbling, hurting idiot begging for what he wanted. What he _needed. _"You wish me dead?" he spat, his shock and pain numbing away as anger soared once more through his veins. This was more like him. He would let this cold, indifferent side talk.

"You honestly think I would die so easily?" He stared at her with apathetic eyes as his heart continued to pound. Christine's hand covered her mouth as her jaw dropped. "No, Erik!" she cried in defense. "I thought you _were_ dead!" Erik started to open his mouth before the sound of footsteps far off cut him off. Wide eyed he pointed an accusing finger at Christine. "Who have you brought?" he demanded wildly, "The police?" She shook her head frenetically. "I brought no one!" Erik's fists clenched. "You are foolish to come alone, then." He took a menacing step towards her but stopped when a figure burst through the door. "Christine!" A harassed looking Raoul came forward into the light, jumping as he saw Erik. "You!" they both gasped in unison. Raoul dashed for his sword at his belt while Erik stood, gawking at them both. Why? Why were _they_ here? Surely this must be another punishment from God to pay for an unspoken crime. Out loud, though, Erik spoke quite menacingly. "Slash at me with that sword, boy, and I shall personally gut you." Christine looked at him with pure fear that embedded itself in his heart. Raoul observed the ominous figure with a look of loathing but kept his hand at ready.

"Erik…" Christine pleaded, "No violence, please. I couldn't bear if-.." Erik cut her off. "If your perfect husband got injured," He finished nastily. Raoul glared at him, placing a protective hand on his wife's shoulder. "At least I protect her!" he hissed. Erik smirked. "You're not doing a very good job, are you?" Christine looked back and forth between the two men, wringing her hands together. "Stop it!" she cried out loudly. "Stop, Erik! Raoul!" Raoul fell silent but glared at Erik whose chest was heaving with vehemence. "Why?" he demanded of both of them. "Why did you come down here? How did you know I was even here?" He stared desperately at Christine. "What could you possibly want?" Raoul glanced down at his wife with an odd expression. "Why did you come down here, Christine? You could have been hurt!"

"I saw you, Erik," she began hesitantly, "upstairs in the ball room. I couldn't believe it was you!" She looked up at Raoul with pained eyes. "I had to know if he was real. If he was still alive down here."

Lark slept restlessly for merely a few minutes but she tossed and turned in her bed, nightmares marring her usually pleasant dreams into beacons of fear and loneliness. She was racing down a tunnel in one, but the light at the end got farther and farther while the tunnel closed in on her. Next, she was with Erik and Mama, but then Mama disappeared. Frantic she turned to Erik. 'We must find her!' she cried, but to her horror, Erik just looked at her and disappeared as well. Darkness came forward like the oceans harsh, wild waves and strangled her. Pulling her down….down…. "Nooooo!" Lark sat up suddenly, drenched with sweat and shivering all over. She squinted around the familiar room and laid back with a trembling sigh. She was still here…and Erik was, too. But Mama…tears formed at the corners of the child's eyes. Mama was gone forever, and all she had was her mask to remind her of her mother. Absently, Lark reached under her pillow to grasp the silky porcelain mask, in hope it would give her comfort. But her hand touched nothing but the smooth, cool sheets. Lark's eyes widened with shock and she gave out a startled cry. "No!" she gasped, sitting up and throwing her pillow off the bed.

The dove white under sheet was the only thing that met her weakened eyes and she ran a hand over the sheets with a shaky hand. "Mama…" she whispered as her mouth went dry. "Mama, where are you?" Lark poked her head under the bed and sat back up to remove the sheets. The black mask was no where to be found. Wavering slightly, she swung her legs over the bed onto the thick carpet, holding the pole for balance as she almost tipped over. "Mama!" she half whispered, half screamed. Racing to the closet, she wrenched open the doors and started to dig with a fevered cadence. Not here…not here….Mama was not here…was she ever here? "I must stop and think!" she said feverishly, trying to calm herself down. "If I think of where I've been today, I'll find Mama!" Quickly her brain racked through the day scene by scene. "When did I last have Mama?" she asked herself. Then it hit her. She had taken the mask off at the Masquerade and had left it on her seat! With a cry, Lark raced for the door and threw it open, planning to run upstairs and fetch Mama without delay!

Voices stopped her at her door, though, and she grasped the doorframe hard. There were people in here…

"Why?" Erik yelled, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. "Why can't you leave me alone?" So much pain! So much pain and agony as he looked up at Christine with imploring eyes. When she had explained that she had seen him, and recognized him, he was horrified and yet…strangely pleased. But it all came crashing down when she uttered coldly. "I wanted to make sure you weren't down here, running the Opera under a threatening, unfeeling fist. You can't continue those ways any longer!" Raoul had released her as she had stepped forward and had taken a step back closer to the door. Erik, in shock, asked her numbly if that is what she thought of him…as a cruel man who wanted only the power and money of the Opera. "I cannot think of you that way," Christine said slowly, "But I also cannot have you continuing to live under the Opera's house, ready to take over when the time comes!" Here, Erik fell to his knees. He could never live normally, yet she says she will send police down here if he should continue to live down under the cellars. "What do you want me to do?" he yelled. "What do you want me to do?"

"Not live where you can harm people anymore." She said, and with those words, Erik felt that he could have laid down and died. He hunched over on his hands and knees, gasping for the air he could not get into his lungs. A small creak of a door came through the room and Raoul and Christine whirled around, Christine hiding a muffled yelp of horror. "Oh no, Erik…." She gasped. With fear waterlogged in his heart, Erik raised his head and also stared with a mixture of horror and pain. "Erik..?" Little Lark peered through the door and stared at the newcomers. "Erik, who are they…?" Erik's throat clogged with horrified alarm as the child squeezed into the room, her nightshift ruffled and hanging loose, almost off one bare shoulder. She peered with frightened, squinted eyes at the Vicomte and his wife. Christine's voice sounded dull and hollow as she turned to Erik.

"What have you done?"

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**Tell me what you think and I'll see if the reviews help Erik along in this tough time, right Erik? (Gets Punjabbed) **

**Erik: (smirks) Right, authoress. (puts Punjab away)**


	55. Chapter 55

**Greetings! Haleybob here! Thank you ALL for the reviews and your concerns about Lark's and Erik's fate. Well, I have to tell you that I cannot tell you personally, and you shall have to read...the NEW CHAPTER! Woo! Enjoy!**

**_DISCLAIMER: _I own neither _Phantom of the Opera_ nor "A la Claire Fontaine" (a French lullaby) **

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_Part Fifty-five:_

"What have you done, Erik?" Christine asked with severity that chilled him to the bones. Raoul looked at the child with a mixture of unshielded abhorrence and pity. Erik couldn't move, only stare at Christine, and at Lark who glared at Raoul and Christine. She already felt threatened by their mere presence and she wished very, very hard that they would disappear like Erik and Mama in her nightmares. This was horribly unimaginable in both her and Erik's eyes as they both stared at the intruders of their perfect little world. "Erik, who are these people…?" the child asked again, but fell silent when Erik looked at her and shook his head ever so slightly, trepidation plain in his gold eyes. Christine shook her head in disgusted wonder. "Is this what you have been doing since I left?" she asked, appalled. "Have you been luring another innocent girl into your dark world with your voice?" Erik felt sick as his fists clenched tight on the carpeted floor. Dear God, let this be a nightmare…let this be some twisted dream inflicted upon him. Raoul also shared the illness, but of a different kind, and his was shown upon his handsome face. He looked back and forth between Lark and Erik with a pale face.

"Erik!" Christine demanded. Erik felt no energy as he raised his head ever so slightly. "No," he croaked, "no, I have….never sung again…after…after you left." Lark rushed to his side, avoiding the other woman's outstretched arm like the plague. "Erik…" she said hopelessly, kneeling down beside him. He didn't take any notice of her, though, but stared blankly at Christine. "I have not bothered anyone…" Raoul scowled and took a step forward. "You have, Monsieur, obviously bothered this child! What about her family…?" Christine held up a hand and he fell silent once again but glowered at the man kneeling before them. Christine turned to Lark and smiled kindly, like a nurse to an ill child. "What is your name, my dear?" The child clung to Erik's heaving shoulders protectively, her chin up with some sort of fierce pride. "Lark." She said, "And you are Christine De Chagny." Christine's face was pulled into a surprised look, though her eyes were cold towards Erik. "How did you come to know my name…?" she asked, glancing once at the masked man. Lark tightened her grip on her guardian and scooted closer to him. "I saw you at the Masquerade," she whispered, "The manager was announcing your arrival."

A shudder went through Erik, making Lark tremble slightly as well. She didn't dare mention to this woman that she had also seen her in a drawing, but with no name, done by Erik himself in his study. Christine's face tightened slightly but she managed a small smile. "May I talk to Erik alone, mademoiselle?" she asked lightly. Raoul shifted against the wall, his hand resting against his sword. Lark looked at both the Vicomte and his wife, and started to speak but Erik's hand touched her own. "Lark," he whispered, "go back to bed, I shall talk to them." The child looked once more at Raoul with eyes filled with hatred and she shook her head. "I want to stay with you," she started, but Erik stood up. Glassy eyed, he turned towards Christine. "May I put her back to bed…? Or should you accompany me with that as well?" Christine studied his masked face then glanced at Raoul. "We will wait outside the door," she said finally. Raoul nodded and walked over to stand protectively next to his wife. Erik bowed mockingly to them and helped Lark to her feet. "Erik..!" she protested. He shook his head and pushed her gently forward towards her room. "Come, Lark…" he whispered, his throat clogged. "It will be…alright once I talk with them." The child bit her lip, but obeyed without question.

"We shall wait outside the door, Erik." Christine warned. "Do not try anything." Erik looked at her with empty eyes. "I shall not do anything." He promised, following the small child inside the room. Closing it behind them he watched sadly, but fondly, as Lark made her way to the bed, snuggling herself underneath the lovely covers. "Come over here, Erik, please." She asked, patting the bed. With heaviness in his heart, Erik made his way to the bed and sat on the edge, forcing himself to be cheerful. "Don't worry," he said, "I will talk to them." Lark twisted the sheets between her fingers. "Can you make them go away?" He smiled softly at her, even though his mask hid his expressions. "I will try," he said, the sinking feeling returning as he thought of Christine and Raoul waiting outside the door. The child smiled back, but it was a hopeless smile, like those made by prisoners of war when told they would be going home 'soon'. "Erik," she whispered, "can…can you sing…?" He eyed her sadly but nodded. "I used to." He murmured, taking her small hand in his giving it a gentle squeeze.

She smiled slightly. "I thought so, your voice just sounded like it could." Erik nodded and started to get up. "Get some rest, Lark," he said, walking to the door. "I shall….sort things out…" The child sat up quickly, eyes wide with fright. "No!" she cried, "Don't go! I'm…I'm scared!" He stopped where he stood and turned. "You're scared…?" he asked, his mouth going dry. "What are you scared of…?" She was curling up beneath the covers, her eyes once again squinting in her direction. Lark swallowed and clung to her pillow. "The darkness." She whispered. "I'm…I'm afraid of the dark…and I can't go to sleep!" Erik sighed and went back to the bed. "Lay down," he commanded softly. She obeyed and stared at him intensely. Running a hand over his hair Erik hummed a quiet little tune Lark listening curiously. Slowly, he added his voice to the humming, and began to sing a soft lullaby.

_Il y a longtemps que je t'aime  
Jamais je ne t'oublierai _

Chante rossignol, chante,  
Toi qui as le cœur gai  
Tu as le cœur à rire,  
Moi je l'ai à pleurer

J'ai perdu mon amie,  
Sans l'avoir mérité  
Pour un bouquet de roses,  
Que je lui refusais

Je voudrais que la rose,  
Fût encore au rosier  
_Et que le rosier même_  
_À la mer fût jeté_

By the second verse, Lark was already sleeping peacefully with a small smile on her face. Erik stroked her hair once before getting up and leaving the room. Christine and Raoul were waiting just outside in the halls. "She's asleep, now." Erik sighed, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Christine looked over at him sadly and came to him, Raoul quick to be right beside her. "Erik," she started, looking into the room at the sleeping child. "Erik, I don't think…I don't think it's right to have a child live below ground." His throat was clogged right at the moment, but Erik nodded slowly. "Yes, yes it's not right. I should have…" Christine interrupted. "No, Erik," she said staring hard into his eyes, "I mean, I don't think it's right to have her live down here with you, either. With you at all." A jolt went through him as his stomach twisted itself into a horrible knot. He swallowed hard. "What…what would you suggest, then?" he asked hoarsely. Christine motioned for Raoul to enter the room and as he obeyed, she turned to Erik. "We will take the child and give her a normal life up above." Erik felt weak, but he wanted to rush in there and stop the Vicomte from entering Lark's room. He couldn't move!

Raoul came back, Lark cradled in his arms asleep. The child sighed once, and turned in her sleep; Erik wanted to cry. "Goodbye, Erik." Christine said sadly, following Raoul out of the house. He followed them mutely. As they climbed into the boat he could only stare after them. "Why?" he asked wretchedly as Christine started to climb aboard. She, his Angel, turned to him slowly as Raoul took up the oars. "Because," she said softly as they rowed away, "children aren't meant to live in the dark." Darkness swallowed them and, without another sound, they left just as quickly as they had come.

Erik fell to his knees and wept.

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**Reviews are a wonderful thing!**

**PM me for original song in either French or English.**


	56. Chapter 56

**THANK YOU ALL FOR THE REVIEWS!! (squee!) You all can't imagine the pleasure I get every time I visit FanFiction and see more reviews to be read. I believe they help me write faster! You ALL get cookies! --- (::) Anyhoodles, here's the new chapter! Here's where we learn to where Richard and Rachel headed off to.**

**_DISCLAIMER: _I do not own Phantom of the Opera...well neither do YOU so THERE! (sniff) **

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_Part Fifty-six:_

Rachel and Richard both left the Opera House in silence. They could not enjoy themselves when both worried about Lark and Erik. "I don't understand it," Richard muttered as they walked down the outside steps, "so Erik just took off after the arrival of the Vicomte?" His sibling nodded and readjusted her muffle. "Yes, he turned so pale around the eyes….it was very strange!" She took out her gloves and started to pull them on. "What about Lark?" she questioned. Richard shook his head and sighed heavily. "All I found was her mask," he said, holding it out for her to see. "And I know she would never leave it willingly since…well….you know." Rachel nodded sadly. "Her mother's, the poor dear." Her brother nodded and tucked the mask into his pocket with care. "But I still don't understand," Richard raved, nearly tripping over a loose stone on the cobble work, "on why they would disappear on us like that!" Rachel rolled her eyes and looked sadly up at the dark, cloudy sky. Light, feathery snowflakes settled on her nose and eyelashes. "I hope everything's alright…" she murmured, shaking her head free of the winter fluff. Walking forward, she ran smack into her brother with a thud. "Ouch..!" she clutched her nose. "Richard! Why'd you stop…?" She became silent at the sight of his paled face. "Richard…?" He stared expressionless at something then slowly brought up his hand into a point. Eyes following where his finger was pointing, Rachel drew in a collective gasp.

Someone was hunched over on the curb, hands clutching their head tightly, and knuckles white as the falling snow. A couple of bags of luggage sat next to them, quietly gathering snowflakes that still fell from the sky. They had a familiar mask on…. "Erik!" Rachel cried out, suddenly breathless. The figure didn't look their way but continued to clutch their head. "Erik! Erik!" the woman cried, rushing to the man's side. As she neared, she could hear the shallow gasps of air and could see his shaking shoulders. Crouching next to him in the snow, Rachel pulled her muffle down from over her mouth and looked at the man's face. It was Erik alright, mask and all. "Erik…" she murmured. Richard huffed over and kneeled on his friend's other side. "Monsieur!" he gasped, alarmed, "Where's…?" Erik spoke too softly for them to hear. "What?" Rachel asked, confused. She leaned against him lightly in order to tilt her head nearer to his mouth. Erik shuddered and shrugged off her weight. "Lark…" he started to whisper hoarsely but cut off with a sob. "Erik…" Rachel touched his shoulder but his hands moved to hide his masked face. "God, why?!" He yelled suddenly in grief, causing the woman to jump back, alarmed. Richard's mouth became a thin line as he paled further still. Grabbing Erik's wrists, he pulled them down firmly to look his companion straight in the gold eye. "Where is she, Monsieur?"

"Gone." He murmured, tears dripping out from behind the mask. "She's…gone." Rachel clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening with shock. Her brother, however, remained calm, though his hands were shaking. "What do you mean, 'gone', Monsieur?" A shiver ran through Erik's body as he glared up at Richard, tears still streaming unheeded down his hidden face. "She's not dead." He replied unsteadily. Erik shook his head fiercely. "No," he murmured to himself, "I would be dead if she was…." Richard said nothing but looked around anxiously as Rachel fingered the bags he was carrying with a look of horrified remorse. She raised her head. "Where is Lark, Erik?" His hands clenched into tight fists as he stared at her, the pain clear in his watery eyes. "Gone." He croaked, "They took her…and…she's gone." Richard stood up and looked at the bags that sat in the snow. "Who took her?" he asked, shaking with anger. Erik glanced up and seeing the man's rage, also stood up. "Don't think I let them willingly," he snarled, seizing hold of his companion's lapels. "Don't you _dare_ think I would let them take her without a second thought of remorse!" Richard glared at the older man. "I never said that," he said coldly. His voice rose as he also griped Erik's collar. "But it is not like you stopped them, is it?!"

"I couldn't!" Erik yelled back, fury replacing his grief. "Would you rather a _mob_ come for her and I next?" he shoved off Richard's hand. "Would you rather harm come to…to Lark, then having her safe?" Richard stared open-mouthed, both men forgetting Rachel's presence. Tears were trickling down her face, collecting in her muffle. "Erik, who took her away from us…?" Her brother brushed aside her question and glared at Erik. "What are talking about..?" he demanded, "_What_ mob?" Erik sank to the curb once again, releasing Richard's lapels. "The mob they would've sent," he murmured, clenching his head, "if I had not obeyed." Rachel bowed her head. "You're a criminal…?" she asked, hardly daring to believe her own ears. Erik let out a watery chuckle. "I suppose that's what they thought I was," he looked up at the woman. "But I am no criminal hiding from some petty crime." Rachel shook her head slowly as her brother just stared off down the street as if looking for the little girl they all treasured. "I…I don't understand…" she confessed. "Who would want to send a…a mob after you? And why?" A bitter laugh escaped Erik's lips as he looked at her, gold eyes showing all the pain he held. "Why, mademoiselle," he asked softly, "do you think I wear this?" he gestured sadly to his mask. Rachel gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth. "Just because of your face," she began, trembling, "they would…would hurt you?"

"People fear," Richard said suddenly, "what they do not understand." Erik looked at the sky dully. "Exactly." Rachel burst into tears. "Why?" she sputtered angrily, tears splashing down her face. "Who would be so….so cruel?" Richard helped her to her feet and gave out a hand for Erik, who pushed it aside, helping himself up off the cold, wet ground. "Humans." Erik answered lifelessly. Richard pulled his sister into his arms in some sort of comfort and looked, mystified, over at Erik. "But, monsieur," he whispered, "who took Lark?" He watched as Erik raised his head up towards the darkened, cloudy sky, allowing the greatly accumulating snowflakes rain down on his masked face but he did not answer. "Erik," Rachel asked timidly, looking at him with concern. He turned slowly towards her. "Yes?" She hesitated, then pulled herself away from Richard's embrace. "Where were you….going to go?" Erik shrugged hopelessly and sorrow threatened to engulf him once again. "I don't…know," he muttered, "I can't stay…where I used to, they won't let me. No, I have to…leave…" Rachel looked up at Richard who nodded slightly and went back to staring down the road. "We can talk about this all at home," she said finally, picking up one of Erik's bags. Richard nodded agreeably. "I think we will get more done when we've all rested." He, also, plucked up some of he bags and started to head for the carriage. Erik stared after them.

"What?" he asked horrified. Rachel turned to him, smiling sadly. "We cannot help Lark now, and you need somewhere to stay, no?" He swayed slightly and sat down hard on one of the leftover luggage. "I-I, you can't!" he said hoarsely. Richard came over and helped him to his feet. "We want to help you, Erik." He said gruffly. "We want to help get Lark back." Erik nodded, but looked helplessly at both of them. "I don't know how we'll…" Rachel just smiled at him and motioned for him to follow. "Don't worry, Erik," she said, "somehow, we'll find her and bring her back. But for now you must stay with us." She paused while grabbing another bag. "I believe the attic would be alright…?" Erik started to say something but ended up only knowing how to nod wearily. He glanced back at the hidden door of the Rue Scribe. Erik felt an aching in his chest as he thought of the emptied halls and rooms. Lark's room, he left untouched. It hurt too much to enter there while he left. "_Au revoir_," he whispered softly, turning to follow Rachel and Richard to the carriage. He would not come back here ever again.

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**I hated the thought of him abandoning his house under the Opera...but it was meant to be...REVIEW and make the authoress very, very happy! (gets Punjabbed)**

**Erik: Next time, mademoiselle, say please. --'**


	57. Chapter 57

**Oh my goobers! So many reviews!! (sniff) I feel so loved! For all of you readers good work, I shall give you MY work's fruit of a new chappy! Sorry it took me awhile, the internet died on me for two days so I couldn't update sooner...**

**_DISCLAIMER: _I am just a phan. I will never own Phantom of the Opera for myself. I have to share Erik and all his splendidness. (gets Punjabbed) **

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Lark shifted in her sleep, sighing heavily. Taking in a breath, she expected to smell the soft scent of rose of her usually white sheets. Instead, jasmine's heavy scent filled her nose, causing her eyes to water and for the child to sneeze violently. "Erik…?" she murmured, startled. Opening her eyes, she found not white sheets, but purple silk sheets. She sat up quickly in her bed…no, _a _bed. Her sheets slid off her body as she looked around, bleary-eyed. Her eyesight was getting worse, but not worse enough to the point to where she could tell….she wasn't at Erik's. Lark's heart started to pound as she looked around wildly. No, this wasn't her room, this wasn't even her house! She could tell because she had a window in the room with soft sunshine pouring through the matching purple silk curtains. "Oh!" she gasped with fright and pulled off her sheets, leaping from the bed to land on the soft, cream colored carpet. "Oh no, no, no." she whispered frantically, running to the window to peer at a lovely rose garden in a stone courtyard. "This…this isn't my home!" she gasped. Lark turned and looked around her new room with squinted eyes. A white desk with a purple cover sat near the door and a white wood wardrobe sat in stony silence near the window. The bed, with an equally purple canopy, lay next to a dove white side desk with a purple lampshade perched on it. A few paintings dotted the pale purple wallpaper.

The girl sank to the floor with shock. "Where am I?" she wondered out loud, wishing feverishly that this was another twisted dream. She turned around to touch the glass of the window with a trembling finger. "Erik…where am I?" she asked, hoping that he was also with her in this new place. A familiar voice came from behind her as the sound of the door creaked open. "You're in our mansion, mademoiselle." Whirling around, Lark felt her heart drop as Christine came into the room, smiling. "Good morning," she said cheerfully, though Lark could not match the woman's smile. "I hope you find your room comfortable." The child rose to her feet as Christine neared, pressing herself against the glass of the window. Seeing her discomfort, Christine frowned and stopped. "Are you alright, my dear?" she asked worriedly. Lark felt herself nodding but she opened her mouth. "W-where's Erik…?" The warmth left Christine's eyes as she replied coldly. "He is not here." Fear dripped into her soul as she stared at this beautiful lady. "Then," she began hesitantly, "Why am I here?" This isn't happening, this couldn't be happening to her! Not now, not when everything was so perfect… "Because Erik gave you to us, my dear." Christine said softly. Lark felt numb. No, impossible! Would Erik really give her away..? The woman crossed over to her and wrapped her in a light hug. "He gave you to us," she continued, "in hope you would lead a normal life."

The child was unmoving in her arms, tears of her guardian's betrayal rolling down her little face. Christine stroked her hair and glanced back at Raoul who stood at the doorway and gave a little nod to which he responded with a smile. "Then," Lark sobbed into Christine's dress, "He doesn't…want me?" Christine rubbed her head fondly. "No, my dear," she sighed, "he just couldn't take care of you properly." That was true, the child realized, she had to take care of Erik when she was living with him. But…weren't they taking care of each other? "Then…you're taking care of me?" No, Erik was, wasn't he? Lark couldn't figure it out anymore. Christine gave another smile. "But of course!" she said kindly, "Now, would you like to eat breakfast with us? I'll leave you so you can get dressed." Lark nodded absentmindedly and failed to notice when the woman released her and shut the door behind as she left. "He….left me." She whispered brokenly, "He doesn't…want me? Does anyone want me anymore?"

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Lark made her way timidly into the dining hall, her long skirts of her new dress nearly tripping her. It was difficult to find her way through the halls with her now feeble eyes, and even more confusing trying to remember each and every hallway. Just in case. A maid had helped her find the dress she wore and the small woman had silently tugged, pulled, and fussed over the child's now long hair into some sort of style. Eyes watering with pain as the hard bristle brush ran through her unruly hair, Lark managed to sit perfectly still on her seat, concentrating only on her reflection that seemed to dim with every tug of hair. But now, even with candles burning brightly on the table, and widows wide open letting bright sunshine through, the dining room was still dim in her sight. Raoul was absent from the table but Christine was there, taking a sip of hot tea. "Ah, Lark!" She greeted her cheerfully, setting down her teacup. "You look lovely." What did it matter if she looked lovely? Lark's face remained expressionless. "Thank you," she murmured softly, though the child felt no gratitude towards the woman at all. She only felt alone, so alone. Christine gestured the chair next to her. "Here, why don't you join me?" Lark hesitated, but crossed the room to seat herself at the table. "Again, thank you." She said.

"I imagine you must be hungry," Christine said politely, "Is there anything you want to eat?" Lark's stomach remained silent as her mind wandered to what Erik told her, what seemed a century ago. _"I don't really eat, you see," _he had said_, "it takes up too much time. You really don't need to eat so much." _Here Erik had shook his head with disbelief_, "There's actually a tea time…Crazy English." _Her limp lips curled slightly in a small, hidden smile. Christine smiled back, encouragingly. "How about an orange?" she asked, nodding her head towards the bowl in the center of the table. "They're very ripe." Lark's smile was wiped away and replaced with her expressionless look as she plucked up an orange and started to peel it, juice running down her fingers. In a monotone voice the child asked with no curiosity in her speech. "Where is the Vicomte?" Christine sighed and leaned forward on her elbows, looking out one of the windows. "My husband," she explained, "is out doing business. Though, later today he will pick up some materials for you." Lark looked at the woman with a slight glimmer of shock in her eyes, placing an orange slice in her mouth. "Why are…you doing this for me?" she asked once she had swallowed the orange. Christine's lips curved into a pleased smile. "Because, Lark," she said cheerily, "we want you to be comfortable in your new home."

So this was to be her new home Lark realized with no emotion. Popping another orange into her mouth, she swallowed with difficulty as she squashed the tears billowing threateningly beneath her eyelids. She would not cry, anymore…she would be like Mama was after Papa died. Emotionless.

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**Ow...those Punjabs, I swear...ANYWAYS! Thanks for reading and if you have time, review and tell me what you think! Man, i will never finish at 60...oh well.**


	58. Chapter 58

**Sorry, sorry, SORRY! I'm _terribly_ sorry for the wait! It couldn't be helped! My family thought it would be a _fabulous_ idea to go camping without contact of any electronics for Memorial Day weekend! (sighs) I hope you guys haven't sent the dogs after me...(hears barking in distance) Shoot. **

_**DISCLAIMER:** _**I do not own, repeat, do _not_ own any part of Erik or his story of Phantom of the Opera...but I _really_ want to! (gets Punjabbed)**

**Erik: (Puts away Punjab) Just read. (scowls)**

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**_Part Fifty-eight:_**

"Erik?" a knock came rapping on the attic door. Erik, who was lying on the divan that sat near the window barely bat an eye as he stared out at the street below with unseeing eyes. Rachel's concerned voice came through the door once again. "Erik? Answer me or I shall come in." Still he didn't respond but twirled the small, black mask around in his hands. Richard had given it to him once they had come back to the house, saying he found it on the chair Lark was sitting on before she left the Masquerade. He observed it detachedly. It was her mother's as she had said. He never did hear her sad past as she would always go glassy eyed which gave him shivers. When arriving back home, Richard, Rachel and himself had all sat around in the parlor, all was tense and silent. Richard and his sister sat on the divan while Erik had sunk himself into the armchair, ignoring their imploring eyes. What could he say? That he left his home under the Opera because his, -Angel? Student? Love?- had taken the one thing that kept him sane, that kept him _alive_ and told him he could no longer live where he had spent almost half his life there or else she would send the police after him? A lifeless chuckle passed his slack lips. They wouldn't have been able to get past the part of him living in a house under the Opera in the first place.

They all just sat, and stared at one another, trying but failing to ask any questions at all about the disappearance of the little girl they all treasured. Lark. He had almost believed she was still around when he awoke that morning, with the clattering that came from below in the kitchen. She always…. The door creaked open and Rachel poked her head around the door. "Erik? You're still not getting up?" Erik stared out the window again but didn't reply. What was the point? Rachel hesitated, and then came in the room, looking at the mess of unusually blank music sheets around her family's old white piano. She had thought he would enjoy the old instrument, and it gave them a reason not to get rid of the familiar old thing. "You're not composing…?" She asked softly, picking up a scrawled out paper barely filled with enough notes to make a chord. Erik's eyes trailed over the floor to Rachel with a dead look that sent a shiver down her spine. "No." he murmured blankly. The woman's lips thinned into a slash against her face as she narrowed her eyes at him, standing up. "Don't you _dare_ giveup, Erik!" she said fiercely, "Don't you _dare_ give up on finding Lark!" With another glare she stormed out of the room slamming the door closed.

Erik blinked slowly, and then returned his gaze on the ceiling, the black mask slipping from his fingers.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Christine led the child back up to the room she was occupying, ordering a maid to help her undress to take a nap as Lark had looked exhausted. "She will be fine once she is used to her new home," she had told Raoul as he had come in from business. Her husband kissed her gently on the cheek and handed his cloak to the servant nearby. "I got some belongings for the child," he said, motioning to the carriage outside. Christine smiled, delighted. "Thank you, Raoul!" she chirped, hugging him briefly before walking outside to the carriage's side. "You got everything, wonderful!" Raoul nodded and joined her at her side. "I apologize if I left anything out." He murmured, glaring at the packages that were being unloaded by their servants. His wife just smiled at him and patted his hand. "It's alright," she assured him, "Lark and I can go buy other necessities later on when I go shopping." They watched the unloading in a comfortable silence until Raoul looked worriedly down at his wife, a crease forming in his brow. "Christine," he started, "about the child…"

"Madame!" A maid suddenly burst out of the house, face beet red from running as she was a heavy-set woman. "Madame De Chagny!" she puffed, stopping to curtsy quickly before them. Raoul stiffened, irritated on being interrupted. Christine, however, took the maid's hands to calm her and looked her curiously in the eyes. "What is it, Marsha?" she asked softly. Marsha huffed a little more but stood up straight and pointed to the house. "The little mademoiselle is calling for you, Madame. It seems very urgent." Christine's eyes widened with surprise as she glanced at her husband. "We shall see to her," Raoul said gruffly, turning to enter the house, Christine at his heels. Coming up the stairs with a sense of urgency, Raoul knocked on the hard wooden door of the child's room. "Christine…?" a small, timorous voice came through. Christine glanced at Raoul who turned back to the door, opening it slowly. "It is both of us, mademoiselle." He murmured, letting them in. Lark was sitting up in bed, her eyes wide with fright. She jumped, startled at his voice and her eyes flew towards the sound's direction. "Where is the Vicomtess…?" she demanded angrily. Christine stepped forward as so the child could see her.

"Where is she, Monsieur?" she demanded again, her eyes still widened to the size of small saucers. The woman turned back to her husband in alarm, her shock matching his. Taking a step forward, Christine smiled faintly. "I'm right her, my dear." Lark's face relaxed, and then hardened suddenly as her eyes squinted down to small slits. "I-…can you come here, please?" she whispered suddenly, holding out a shaky hand. Christine walked forward and sat on the edge of the bed, taking the child's outstretched hand between hers. "Is there something wrong, Lark?" she asked. Raoul shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, gazing out the window with concerned eyes. The child didn't answer, but suddenly widened her eyes to their full extent and then gave out a choked sob. "It's nearly gone!" she gasped dramatically, causing Christine to jump. "It's leaving me! Leaving me!" Raoul's gaze snapped to the child's face in alarm though his wife remained calm, holding the little hand tighter. "What is leaving, dear?" Lark's face became wild as she struggled to get out. "It's leaving! I'll never be able to see-!"

Christine held her down, alarmed. "Lark, calm down," she tried to sooth the child by speaking calmly, but it seemed to stress her more. Throwing herself onto her face, Lark pounded the pillows with her fists, her feet pummeling the bed as she burst into angry, remorseful tears. "Gone! Gone!" she screamed, sobbing as Christine stood up, shaken by this unexpected tantrum. Raoul darted forward and attempted to help his wife hold the child down as she screamed and struggled with rage and fear. "Mademoiselle….!" He cried, catching hold of her arms. "Please, you must calm down and tell us what's wrong!" Motioning frantically to the maid standing, awed, outside the door, the Vicomte held down the child's arms in an attempt to flip her over. "Gone!" she screeched, tears streaming down her face. Christine's face was pale as she helped the maid seize the child's flailing legs, pinioning them to the bed. All of a sudden, the child's body sagged as she relaxed and she sobbed harder, shaking her head. Raoul and the maid released her tentatively as Christine held onto the girl's arm in some sort of comfort. "We're going to call the doctor, alright, sweet?" Christine soothed, sweeping the child's hair away from her sweaty brow. "We will help you, I promise." Lark nodded helplessly, her eyes looking nowhere. "I'm-I'm sorry…" she mumbled sounding broken. "I'm….so sorry….Christine." The woman looked at her with concern but her voice was gentle, understanding. "It is hard for you, and that I understand."

Christine ordered the shocked maid to keep an eye on Lark and to clean her up. Raoul glanced once at the broken child on the bed and shook his head sadly as he let both him and his wife out. "I will call the doctor," he said finally, breaking the tense silence. Christine nodded and was about to say something when the doorbell rung almost ominously. "I shall get the door." She said. Raoul nodded and headed down the hall while Christine made her way down the staircase, calling to the door. "Coming!" Her husband stopped by the window above and glanced out to see who the unwelcome visitor was. He was surprised to see a tall, strikingly beautiful lady around her late-thirty's with flowing auburn hair standing at their door with a determined, fixed expression. Looking to the street, a carriage sat with a lonely driver perched on top, reading the newspaper. Raoul's brow furrowed, but he left to call the doctor, giving the woman no other thought.

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**Dramatic and getting really sick of being Punjabbed! (gets Punjabbed)**

**Erik: Ignore the authoress. And review. (looks threateningly at computer screen) Or _you're_ next.**


	59. Chapter 59

**I think this is my longest chapter yet...oh well. I'm sorry for the delay! The weekend was hectic and it doesn't help that exams are coming up this week! - '**

**Erik: Stop sputtering excuses and give them what they want.**

**What do they want...?**

**Erik: (sighs) A chapter, mademoiselle...**

**Oh yeah...here you guys go! read! read! read, you fools!**

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Rachel stood defiantly in front of the large mansion, her mouth set into a grim line. This was the house of the Vicomte, as she had extracted from Erik. Her heart fluttered painfully as she thought of how dead, how hollow he was. She could only wish that Lark was really here, and alright. Before when she was just walking up to the forbidding house, she could have sworn she had heard….but that was impossible. The Vicomte wasn't known for hidden cruelty! Once she explained the situation, he would understand, and give Lark back to them. Yes, Rachel nodded to herself as she heard the door's chain being pulled back; they would give the child back once they understood the whole story. As the door creaked open, Rachel was surprised to see another young, well-dressed woman with the figure of a child angel. "Good afternoon, Madame De Chagny…?" she ventured, smiling tentatively. The woman didn't return the warm greeting and observed her with cold eyes. "I am she." She replied softly, opening the door no further. "Ah," Rachel's smile slid off her face at the coldness of the woman's voice. "Well, then…Is your husband here…?" The Vicomtess shook her head slowly. "He is busy at the moment, but can I help you?" She didn't sound at all approving to help or willing, but Rachel had to try.

"Yes, do you happen to be in the care of a child named Lark?" The woman's face paled considerably as she stared at Rachel with horror. "Do you know Erik?" she murmured, a hand resting on her heart. Rachel stared confusedly at the woman. "Yes, Madame, I do know a man of the name Erik." The Vicomtess nodded swiftly and opened the door more, gesturing her in. "I think you had better come in, mademoiselle…?" Rachel took a step forward, hesitating for merely a moment as she stared up at the large doors. "Rachel." She murmured. "Just Rachel, if you please." Stepping into the hall the woman was awed by the sheer size and elegancy of the room. "You have a lovely home, Madame." She commented, but her eyes were only scanning in vain for some sign of Lark. The Vicomtess smiled faintly, not noticing Rachel's search. "Thank you, mademoiselle," she said humbly, "I fear it is not much to compare with others but my husband and I try to do our best." She walked over to a door, beckoning Rachel to come and enter. "We may talk in here where we will not be disturbed." The two women entered the parlor, for that was what was in the room, and the Vicomtess rung a tiny bell that sat on the mahogany coffee table. "Please have a seat," she said, gesturing to the divan, "Is tea alright, mademoiselle?" Rachel didn't want to talk. What was this? Some sort of social visit? Her teeth ground in her mouth with frustration but she contained herself and sat down on the divan.

The Vicomtess still stood but peered down at Rachel expressionless. "So…" she said softly, "How much do you know about Erik…?"

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Lark refused the maid's help in getting her dressed or cleaned. "I can do it myself!" she snapped, irritable and scared as her vision seemed darken by the passing minute. Stumbling around the room, the child managed to get to her wardrobe after the maid had gratefully fled the wrath that seemed to vent out of such a small girl. With frustration, Lark tore past each outfit, feeling it with her fingers and squinting heavily to determine what it was. Perhaps she would make little tabs on the corners of the dresses to tell herself which one was which. No! She wasn't blind yet! Lark ground her teeth together and took a dark green dress off the hanger. She would keep fighting! She would see him again….The girl was so involved with the dresses that she didn't notice the door was still open and failed further still to hear the footsteps of the Vicomte making his way to her door. Raoul stood out her door and peered sadly at the small child as she seized a dress with a savage tug and stomp her way towards the connected bathroom. Unfortunately, she didn't know the room well and with her eyesight, promptly tripped over the dress and fell to the floor.

"WAHH!"

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Erik lay on the divan. He hadn't moved since yesterday, nor had he moved when he saw Rachel leave in a hurry and head off in the carriage. She had come in his room that morning to ask where the Vicomte lived. How could Erik forget that night where he had peered at the young man with hatred and jealousy? In a monotone voice he had softly spoke the address and, without further delay, Rachel had exited his room with a determined air. Erik picked up the black mask that had slipped through his fingers the other day, feeling the soft silky-smooth material with a thin finger. He knew that Christine wouldn't give Lark back. He might as well die now…tears pricked his eyes, surprising him. "How can I still have tears when I feel I can shed no more…?" he asked the mask sadly. Richard hadn't gone with his sibling, surprisingly. He, like Erik, seemed to have gone into a brooding stage, locking himself up in his workshop though Erik doubted him staying in there long. The same door had been swung open with terrible force and Erik heard his companion stomp down the stairs. "I don't know what to do." He voiced out loud, hating the loneliness. He touched the mask, as if he could somehow talk through it to Lark. "I don't know what to do anymore…"

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Vicomtess, Madame," Rachel answered slowly, "All I want is to return the child –yes I know you have her– to Erik who is her rightful guardian." She looked up imploringly at the woman who stood above her, mouth compressed into a thin line. "Surely you understand you cannot take her from him!" The Vicomtess's lips were stretched into a bitter smile but she was interrupted by a maid, Marsha in fact, who smiled timidly and set down a tray with a teapot and glasses. Bowing, the maid avoided her Mistress's displeased eyes and backed out of the room without a word. The Vicomtess took up a cup and poured steaming hot tea, offering it to Rachel who shook her head politely. Placing a lump of sugar into the cup, the hostess stirred it with a little silver spoon, staring out the window. Slowly she walked over to pull back the silk curtain and turned to Rachel. "I do not believe we are on the same footing of knowing Monsieur Erik, mademoiselle." She said, unsmiling. "Nor do I believe you know enough about him, either." Rachel started, about to reply sharply but remembered where she was and who she was, and managed to hold her tongue. "How so?" she worked out through clenched teeth. The Vicomtess glanced out the window again, a secret smile stealing across her face. "Has he not told you?" Rachel remained unmoving though her hand tightened into a fist hidden in her lap.

"Told me what, Madame?" she replied with an innocent gesture of unconcern. The Vicomtess's eyes never wavered from the window as she murmured softly. "What he has done." Rachel stared at her hostess with unveiled surprise. "Beg pardon?" The woman took a sip of her tea. "What Monsieur Erik has done." She repeated steadily. "Has he never told you…?" Rachel refused to meet her eyes as her head whirled with confusion. The Vicomtess looked on with an emotion Rachel couldn't name. "Then, mademoiselle," she murmured, "You would not understand my meaning of taking the child into a healthier, better environment." Rachel started, standing up off the divan, fists clenched at her sides. "What do you mean?" she demanded, forgetting, "'Better environment'? They were-.." The Vicomtess cut in coolly, cutting into her guest's heart with a vigorous slash. "-unsafe to be together." She finished. "Mademoiselle, you who does not know the story cannot even comprehend on why I would want to protect Lark." Rachel opened her mouth to reply sharply when a cry interrupted both of them.

"WAHH!"

Both women started and Rachel looked around confusedly while the Vicomtess looked up to the ceiling, a frown crossing her beautiful features. She turned to her guest with a polite, yet cold smile. "I think it would be best if you would leave, now. I must attend to mademoiselle Lark." Rachel gasped at her as she motioned to a hidden servant to lead her to the door. "This way, mademoiselle," the maid said timidly, it was not Marsha. Rachel would not follow but glared at her hostess. "I shall get Lark back," she growled, unladylike through her teeth, "I shall get her back and return her if it's the last thing I do!" The Vicomtess remained expressionless. "Perhaps, mademoiselle," she said softly, opening the front door for her unwelcome guest, "you should go and ask about Monsiuer Erik's past before putting the child into more danger." Rachel flushed a deep crimson and, with her head held up high, stomped out the door to her carriage.

"Ready, Mademoiselle?" her driver, Lewis growled. Rachel nodded once and helped herself into the carriage before he could help her himself. "Let us go home, Lewis." She said, looking back to glare at the mansion. Leaning back in her seat, though, she could only wonder why…."What is it you are hiding from us, Erik?" she whispered.

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**Review! It's soooo nice to hear from the readers!**

**Erik: Say please and maybe they will.**

**Oh sorry...PLEASE review!!**


	60. Chapter 60

**Aaaand we are here with the big 6 O! WHOO! All I can do right now is look back and say..."Geez, I'm not done yet???" **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. Sad day.**

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"Ouch…!" Lark gasped, clenching her teeth together back against the pain. Heavy footsteps made their way quickly to her side and she felt two hands grasping her around the waist, hoisting her up off the floor. The child held in a scream and stumbled away as soon as her feet were firm on the floor. "Who is it?" she whimpered, squinting and widening her eyes in vain attempt to see the dark figure before her. A gentle hand touched her cheek but, startled, she slapped it away. "I'm sorry, mademoiselle," the Vicomte's maddeningly calm voice reached her ears, "it is I, Raoul de-…" The child's eyes filled with hateful rage as she picked up the dress, backing up to the bathroom. "Chagny!" she spat, finishing his sentence. "I know very well who my captors are!" Raoul took a step back, surprised at her outburst. "Lark," he began gently, "we are only here to help you, not to be your captors." The child trembled with some unspoken emotion as she grasped behind her searching for the bathroom door handle. "I don't care," she said suddenly, "you took me from my…my home….my…" she whispered so softly that Raoul could not catch it. "My Papa." 

Christine hurried into the room and came to Lark's side, taking her hand gently and speaking so that she would know who it is. "It's Christine, dear don't worry." She said softly, her words seductive venom in the child's heart. "We never stole you from that dreadful place," she said comfortingly. "Remember? He gave you to us to protect and raise properly here above ground so you could have a normal life." Christine stroked the child's hair as she looked at Raoul with a confused face. He shrugged in response and headed out the door, leaving the two females alone. "You are in our care, Lark." The Vicomtess cooed, "You will be happy soon enough once you get used to everything." The child nodded mutely and trembled until Christine wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug. "Now," she continued, taking the dress from Lark's limp fingers, "let's get you cleaned up, alright dear?" Lark looked out in the direction of the brightest source of light.

The window.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Rachel was confused as she arrived home, and furious that she never got to even _see_ Lark at all! Thanking Lewis briefly, she made her way up to the door, opening it with familiarity that she had all her life. This house…she had lived in it for as long as she breathed air; all her life. Sighing with frustration, the comfort of her home could not calm her as she hung up her cloak. "What did she mean?" she asked aloud. "What did she mean by mentioning Erik…?" The woman didn't hear the footsteps that made their way hesitantly down the stairs, nor did she see her brother as he made his way to the parlor. "What about me, mademoiselle?" a soft voice came behind her. Rachel let out a squawk of surprise and spun around only to catch her breath. "Where did you go, if you do not mind me asking?" Erik looked sadly at her through his mask, his eyes still holding the pained grief she couldn't comprehend. Rachel swallowed nervously and remembered what the Vicomtess said about his past…possibly he was dangerous? "Of course," he continued softly, barely using his vocal cords. "It is not my business to know where a lady goes." He turned to leave but Rachel found her own voice.

"No, Erik, I do not mind telling you!" she said breathlessly, stopping him with her outburst. How could she even start to believe this remarkable man was dangerous? She wouldn't ask, Rachel decided then, what happened to him in the past. It didn't matter right now. Erik turned, a slight spark of curiosity echoing in his empty eyes. "Oh yes?" he said, giving her his full attention, making her face flush. "No, not at all!" she said, fumbling with a strand of her hair. Erik listened patiently and she stuttered out her reply. "I- I was going to the Vicomte's home." She admitted quickly, "I wanted….I wanted to get Lark back." Rachel wasn't sure if he heard her, for he remained still as a statue. Then suddenly he gave a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Thank you." He whispered. "So they are keeping her there." He walked off towards the stairs and Rachel could see how thin, or thinner he had become over the past week. "Erik…" she called hesitantly, coming near the staircase. "What are you…going to do?" Erik never answered that question, but a few days later she noticed that he had begun to work on something. He would come out only to eat maybe a small morsel or two silently before asking Richard to excuse him. Erik went out shopping a lot, and would come back with strange parcels tucked under his arm.

"I wonder what is it he working on." Rachel wondered out loud to her brother. Richard could only shrug but hope was in his eyes. "I think he…has an idea to get Lark." Rachel smiled.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Christine's calming, soothing words were poison in Lark's ears, numbing her senses to the point where she could not even remember who the two siblings she had visited were. It had been about a month after she had been taken, and her eyesight was totally gone. She was alone in this dark world and no one could bring in a light, no one could help even if they brought thousands of candles. For the first few days of her blindness, she sobbed hysterically and threw terribly frightening tantrums that ended in either servants or Raoul and Christine to physically restrain her as she screamed and fought like a wild animal. Then, as though a thought hit her, she would sag and become limp and beg their forgiveness. Christine would forgive the child and give her a comforting hug but Raoul would leave the room with distaste and said nothing to his wife when she demanded an answer for his strange actions. Lark, once alone, would get out of bed, and feel around the whole room with her fingers. She felt every tiny corner, every edge of furniture up and down with her sensitive hands until she knew where everything was and she had a mental picture in her mind. The child never laughed or showed any signs of emotion except when she threw her fits of rage or fright or both. Her once bright and enthusiastic eyes became dull and permanently glazed which was a sign of a blind human. She would move them, however, as though she could still see people, and when she thought she felt someone's disapproving eyes like a passing servant or the Vicomte himself, Lark would muster the most hateful glance in the direction the feeling came from. And she would laugh rudely if she heard the footsteps quicken.

Though she made no attempt to remember the siblings who were once her friends, she could not or would not forget Erik. Perhaps it was Erik who gave her the courage to ask Christine for a tour of the whole house so she could feel everything with her fingers to make a mental map, or perhaps it was Erik who still gave her the rage, the grief, and fright that were her only emotions. And perhaps it was Erik who didn't let her forget him. It was impossible for Lark, and if she had tried, which she never did, she would have found that something else reminded her like a brush of Christine's silk dress against the wall, or the constant music in her mind. Yes, there was music in her mind at all times, how could she forget it? For as long as she had lived with Erik, there was always music even when he wasn't playing the songs were etched into her soul forever. Maybe that's why she showed her first spark of glee in many weeks when Christine showed her the music room where there was one big, grand piano in the center of the room.

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**Review, please! It makes us both so happy! And it seems now adays my limit for a chapter is at least 1,000 words. I'm so smart!**


	61. Chapter 61

**Haleybob here! And with a new chapter no less! I hope you enjoyed last chapter and I can only thank you all for the reviews! Believe it or not, they help a lot to get me going!**

**_DISCLAIMER_:** **I do not own Phantom of the Opera but that's the same for everyone except Leroux so HA!**

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_**Part Sixty-one:**_

"This is the music room, my dear." Christine said softly, leading the blind child in the room. "If you feel over here, you can touch the grand piano. Yes, there you are, you like that don't you?" Lark's slow, careful fingers felt all over the piano, over the keys, the smooth, closed top and even the legs and pedals at the bottom and its stool. "We don't play it near enough though," the woman continued with a sigh, "but I still like to keep it. Such a beautiful sound…can you play at all, my dear?" The child nodded, her eyes closed and her fingers still tracing the wood with tender care. No bothering with opening her eyes now, for without any sight at all there was no point. Christine clapped her hands together, startling the child, happily. "You can?" she asked cheerfully, "My dear, then you must show me! Will you play me a little song?" Lark turned to the woman's direction and nodded once before sliding herself carefully onto the bench. Suddenly her fingers where flying over the keys as though another force were controlling her hands. A smile spread across Christine's face as she watched this child play an old French lullaby. For the Vicomtess, it was merely a pretty song but for Lark…Tears welled up in her eyes as she played the song slowly. Erik sang this for her to help her to sleep, and now she would play it with her own hands. Softly she started to sing the song under her breath.

_Il y a longtemps que je t_

She couldn't finish and her fingers lay limp on top of the piano's silky keys. Christine came over and rested her hands on the girl's shoulders. "You play very well," she commented, "and your singing isn't bad either." Lark didn't reply to this but stood up and turned to Christine. "Would you mind," she said in a monotone voice, "If I played now and then? I know the way, now." Christine began to nod then remembered who she was with. "Of course, my dear," she said pleasantly, "You may play whenever you find a need." Lark didn't smile, but curtsied clumsily anyways and voiced her thanks. She made her way out of the room carefully, her arms still outstretched as she wasn't fully aware of the surroundings. She had heard Christine's footsteps head down the stairs, leaving the music room so there would be no more tour at the moment. The halls were easy enough to get around but there was still the furniture and decorations that Lark still ran into from time to time. Just now, she felt her foot catch something and she tumbled to the ground. "Damn," she swore, feeling stupid and helpless as she felt behind her to see what she fell over. Stupidly enough, to her, the only thing she had tripped over was the upturned corner of the rug on the floor.

"You're such a little clumsy fool, Lark." She spat to herself, taking perverse pleasure in making fun of her disability. "That would have never happened had you seen the rug." She paused and got up, dusting her hands on her dress. "Oh yes, that's right," she sneered, walking down the halls once again. "You can't see, can you, Lark? You're a poor little blind girl without a family!" The child somehow mad it to her room and, feeling the small chink of missing wood underneath the door handle she had made a week before, Lark let herself into her room and sank on her divan. She hugged herself tight but no tears fell. She hadn't cried for so long, it felt as though her very tears had deserted her. She didn't even sleep regularly for it was always in her little world, nighttime. She had made a brave stand against her blindness by making things for her to feel like the chink under the door handle so she would know it was her room or the little different shaped beads she sewn onto her dresses so she could tell which ones she was choosing by feeling the bead. Even so she was lonely in her dark world. No one could help her see again, that she knew, and no one really knew what it was like to always wake up to nothing but black. Pitch black with no colors, no light, and just emptiness.

But she could feel. Perhaps that was her only connection to her normal world, was her sense of touch. Lark woke in the, she guessed, morning because of the warmth she felt on her skin as sunlight filtered through the window. She purposely made the maids keep the curtains open so she could at least sense the warmth and tell if it was night or day. Christine kept her by her side by lightly touching her arm, letting her know where she was. Hugs she got often as well, and that would help ward off the lonely feelings though not completely. Only one person's embrace could help her in that, blind or no. "Erik." She whispered to herself as she touched her face. How she wished she could have seen him again, to see him with his mask and stylish suits. Or better yet, without the mask. Lark wondered why she never insisted he keep it off around her though now that she thought about it, she kept silent about it because she had also done so when her Mama was still alive. Never questioned was the mask and it was so normal on his and her face that she never mentioned them. No point in drawing attention to the obvious. It was uncomfortable for him. Oh yes, Lark always noticed when he shifted it on his face with annoyance. His mask had been a nuisance but he had kept it on for sake of her. Perhaps she was the only reason why he kept it on. Did he have it off a lot when she wasn't living with him? Did he have it off now?

Her lips trembled. Did Erik even miss her? What if he forgotten about her and moved on? "No!" she cried out furiously, standing up from her bed. She would banish these awful, soul-eating thoughts! They weren't true, they couldn't be true. She knew Erik and he knew her. The child clenched her fists tight against the wave of pain that crashed over her head. They knew each other by heart now, they knew….no. No, Erik didn't know everything, she realized with horror, because she never told him anything! "You idiot," she murmured to herself, crossing over to the window and smacked her head against the warm glass with frustration. "You bloody ignorant idiot!" Biting her lip savagely, the metallic taste of blood tinged her tongue and she pulled away from the window. Outside, she would go outside to the garden! There she would think of nothing and try to relax. Christine had taken her into the garden to calm down after a tantrum one day and had shown her the way to the little bench near the rose bushes. It had been lovely, sitting in the spring air and the soft, lovely scent of roses had nearly made Lark burst into tears again.

Yes, she would go to the garden and hope to seek some sort of emotional refuge there. Besides, she loved to hear people walk by and hear their carefree or hurried conversations. Some would bid her a good day sometimes and other times people would just pass Lark by. But she loved being close to the world she used to belong in.

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**Erik: You're not going to beg shamelessly for reviews? I'm impressed!**

**Are you kidding? Of **_**course**_** I'm going to beg! I have no pride after all! (gets on knees) Please have mercy on a writer's soul and give me a review! They help sooooo much!**

**Erik: ...**


	62. Chapter 62

**Whoa, I'm getting a lot of writing done! Must be because I have nothing planned during these Summer days. Whoo! I'm going to see Phantom tomorrow! Yes, it IS the play. Yes, I'm seeing it for the third time! xD Yes, you're all going to hurt me now, I know it.**

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Erik sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring at his completed work. He had worked on it for a very long time, nearly a month and now with it completely finished and perfected; he would have to use it. The human face of an elderly, plain faced man stared back at him, the eye holes empty of any sight and the nose its own shape so that it stuck up from its material. He had made a mask that, when worn, would make him look like an old gentleman, not handsome nor ugly, but a plain face that you would see several times over in a busy street. Erik hadn't told Rachel or Richard about his plan. Why would he for it was barely a plan at all. All he wanted to do was…he pushed it out of his head for now and looked down solemnly at the mask. "You are my only hope," he told it softly, plucking it up. He knew no one would recognize him for what he was, not that anyone knew him but if by chance Christine looked out or her bloody husband…He gulped nervously. They wouldn't see Erik, but an old gentleman outside their window and that wasn't suspicious was it? Taking a deep breathe, Erik placed the mask on and started to apply the necessary materials that would mold it to his face, transforming his old look completely.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

He was lucky that Rachel was working again and Richard was out as he slipped out the front door wordlessly. He had checked before leaving in the hall mirror to make sure that his guise was complete. Erik wore a simple suit with a top hat and with his mask he looked like an old gentleman going out for a stroll. He didn't take the carriage, but walked down the street carelessly. Before exiting, Erik had grabbed a gold topped cane in the umbrella stand before leaving for extra measure. He leaned on it slightly as he hobbled down to the busy streets. Like he had suspected, no one even glanced his way as he made the long way down to the Vicomte's home. It wasn't hard as he had gone there plenty of times in his earlier years with Christine to observe the boy with hatred and jealousy. No, it wasn't hard to get there at all. Erik leaned heavily on the cane as he stared up at the magnificent mansion. It was, regrettably, more glamorous than Richard and Rachel's home. Erik ignored the front door and decided to stroll around the outside of the house in an attempt to see a window where…where Lark might be looking out.

Erik however found himself going around the gate of the rose garden, and, nearly missing the sight, spotted a small figure sitting upon a bench. His heart jumped up into his throat as he walked slowly to the other side and stared at the familiar face of the child. Her eyes were closed and a small smile was spread across her rather pale face. Perhaps this was a vain attempt after all, she looked content. Erik felt his hand clench tighter on the cane. He must hear it from her only! He wouldn't protest if she were happy there, but if she wasn't….He swallowed nervously and opened the garden gate, quietly as you please. Lark heard, though, and her head turned in his direction her eyes remaining closed. She knew someone had entered without opening her eyes. Erik made his voice scratchy and an octave higher as he spoke so she would not recognize the sound of his normal voice. "Good afternoon, mademoiselle." He said pleasantly though his hand shook as it hung onto the cane. Lark smiled dimly and looked around, eyes remaining closed to the world. "Is it afternoon already, monsieur?" she sighed curiously. Erik frowned in concern but dared not to go nearer. "Yes it is, mademoiselle, didn't you know?" he replied, keeping his voice carefree and unconcerned.

The small smile remained, though it turned cold. "No, I cannot tell if it is morning or night, monsieur." She opened her lids to reveal the glassy fogged eyes. "It's rather hard you see, when you're blind." My God! It took all Erik's self control not to cry out as he stared hard at the sightless eyes of this once so bubbly child. He barely was able to keep his false tone up when he replied softly. "I'm sorry, mademoiselle. Can you forgive an old man of his careless folly?" Lark's face brightened slightly as she gave a small, sad chuckle. "I forgive you, monsieur." She said, "not everyone can tell if I see or not." Erik started forward cautiously, the garden pathway gravel crunching underneath his shoes. "Do you mind if I join you?" he asked politely. The child's eyes widened as she nodded and scooted over to allow him enough room. He sat down lightly and rested the cane against the iron leg of the bench with a sigh. Erik looked up at the house looming over them, checking the windows for some sort of sign of someone watching. With a satisfied grunt he turned to Lark again and brought up the conversation. "You have a lovely house," he commented, watching for her reaction, "you are a very lucky girl to grow up so fine."

"No one has sat with me before." Lark said, completely oblivious that he had spoken. Erik, startled, shifted uncomfortably on the seat. "No one?" he asked, keeping his voice as gentlemanly as an old man as he could. She shook her head and felt a rose petal that was brushing her hand. "Everyone usually just says hello or nothing at all." She turned her sightless eyes towards her companion. "You are the first to want to join me, monsieur, why?" Erik leaned back and looked around at the tall rose bushes. "If you don't want me here," he said humbly, "I can leave." Lark's eyes became frightened and she gripped his arm. "No!" she cried breathlessly, "No, it's alright! I'm happy you're joining me!" Erik remained silent and she started, releasing his arm. "I'm sorry, monsieur," she apologized quickly, "I was just surprised…" Lark looked like she was going to cry but her eyes were strangely dry, like there was no more moisture in her eyes. "I've prayed so hard that someone else will talk me," she whispered brokenly finding a need to explain herself to this man she didn't even know. "And now you said hello and wanted to sit with me, you made me very happy!" Erik hesitated, wondering how someone else would respond to this, then just laid a gloved hand on hers.

"It's quite alright, missy." He said gruffly. "I merely thought you didn't want to listen to an old man's babbling." Lark didn't move her hand from underneath his and then took up her other hand to trace the satin gloves with wonder. "No," she said, "no, I want to listen!" She leaned forward and looked with sudden interest at him. "What stories can you tell me?" Erik swallowed, contemplating on what he should tell her. This child was looking vainly for something to interest her, to keep her mind off of….what? He sighed wearily and rubbed the girl's hand with his thumb as he thought. Then it hit him. Taking up his cane, he laid it across his lap and stared hard into the foggy eyes. "What do you know of the old Opera Ghost?"

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**Review please! They make me happy! And type faster!**

**Erik: You're pathetic.**


	63. Chapter 63

**Sheesh! Aye yai yai! Finally got around to updating! Man summer takes up too much time...Thank you all for being so patient with me and in sending your reviews I thank you! (bows) Here's your new chapter!**

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Lark blinked in surprise. "I…I worked there for a short while, monsieur," she confessed, "but I haven't heard of an Opera Ghost." The child felt thrilled at hearing a story, especially an ominous sounding one. Then again, she felt thrilled that this kind gentleman would sit with her and talk to her about anything at all. She sensed him smile at her and gave a tiny smile in response. "Well," he sighed, "I best educate you on the matter, _non_?" Lark nodded and scooted closer to hear well. "Where to begin, where to begin," the man murmured to himself. The child didn't mind where he started, so long as he stayed with her, but she didn't voice this and kept patiently quiet. He shifted in his seat and Lark looked in his general direction. "Now this isn't a story I would tell if you didn't want to be scared," he warned ominously, "I'm not going to leave anything out that's frightening." Lark lifted her chin bravely, but felt for the old man's gloved hand and in finding it, gripped it tightly. "I'm alright, monsieur!" she said eagerly, "My…my Mama told me scary stories when I was little. But…" Lark gave his hand another squeeze. "Is it alright if I hold your hand? It's just a childish habit!" She laughed nervously but the man's hand also gave hers a slight squeeze. "That's fine, so long as you're comfortable." He said gravelly. She nodded furiously and tried not to hurt his hand by her tight grip.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Erik was going to tell her everything. Everything! He ran his tongue nervously over his lips. It would be easier to tell her from someone else's perspective as an old man, but he worried that she would ask where he got this information. But watching her….Lark stared hard at him, well, in his direction anyways. Erik felt like he received a blow to the stomach when he saw her fogged eyes. Blind! Poor soul, how could he never notice her failing sight? Why did it come so quickly? Her hand squeezed his and he looked up at her. Oh that's right…. Sighing, Erik leaned back and pushed his top hat further over his forehead. Then he started. "The Opera Ghost was born long ago, in a house in a small town," His eyes were glued to her face, looking for a reaction but her face remained passive. "His father had died and his mother hated him the moment he was born." Lark sat up straighter and her eyes widened. "Why?" she asked. Erik looked at her solemnly. "Because," he said bitterly, "he was hideously deformed like no other human face."

The story came out in a rush, but Erik didn't miss a single detail of anything. Not the gypsies, not the Rosy Hours of Mazenderan, not even the Tokin pirates were left out. Throughout this whole story, Lark would sometimes gasp, but only when it seemed the man she was told about was going to get hurt or killed. He couldn't understand it, but he winced when she squeezed his hand hard in fear as he told about how he, or the Opera Ghost, made the little sultana laugh. Not from the pain of his hand being crushed in hers, but her tangible fear of this Opera Ghost. Later though, she relaxed more and listened all the more intently. Then it came to the part where the Ghost built the Opera Populaire and Lark sighed in awe and became silent again. Erik stopped when it came to the part about the chorus girl, finding himself unable to continue unless he gave out _her_ name. "Who was the chorus girl, monsieur?" she asked timidly. Erik looked up at the mansion that loomed over them and turned back to the girl. "Do you know the mistress of this house?" he asked. Lark nodded with wide eyes. Erik smiled slightly as he continued. "Well, she was the chorus girl. Christine Daae was her name and she believed in the Angel of Music."

"Angel of Music," Lark repeated and her brow crinkled as she thought hard upon this new bit of information. "Are you sure, monsieur?" Erik felt like laughing and crying at the same time, an odd feeling, but he nodded. He then voiced "Yes," when he realized with shame that she couldn't see him nod. Lark looked in the direction of the house, her lips in a small O of surprise. "Amazing," she breathed and Erik could only agree with her. She then flounced to face him again, startling him when she gripped his hand with both of her own. "Go on," she insisted, "go on with the story, I'm not afraid!" _You should be_. Erik thought darkly but went on to tell her the rest, of how the Opera Ghost became her Angel, how he took her down to the house under the lake, how she uncovered the mask and saw the horror within. Lark remained very still as Erik talked, her glassy eyes revealing nothing of what was going on in her head. "I can stop if you are tired, mademoiselle," he offered suddenly. The child shook her head fiercely and gripped his hand tight. "No, go on." She said in a small voice. "I want to hear it all before," her voice broke but she lifted her head bravely, "before I have to go in." Erik jumped and looked around. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, how long had it been? "Won't you be missed?" he asked in concern. Lark smiled bitterly. "Oh yes, I would be, if they were around. They have gone out shopping, leaving me here with the servants." She then let out a small laugh, but it was hard and strangely cold. "They think I'm troubled in the head, so the servants won't look for me until their Masters come back."

Erik stared at her in shock. What had made her change so? The little girl he knew before was hidden behind a mask of hurt and resentment. He had caused this, he was sure, and Erik felt like punching a wall for causing her all this trouble. Lark sounded scared when she asked if he was alright. "I'm sorry, monsieur," she apologized quickly, "I really am not disturbed, I'm just…" She rubbed his gloved hand over and over with trembling fingers. "Its fine, mademoiselle." Erik managed to say. "I knew a lady who had a terrible temper, but truly she was alright. You're just scared and that is fine with me." Lark blinked slowly. "You know a lot, don't you?" He shrugged and shifted in his seat. "Well now, I don't know that much," he said gruffly, "just enough to get by. Shall I continue?" Lark's face brightened and darkened at the same time but she eagerly nodded and waited for him to speak. "Now, where was I?" Erik said, scratching his head. "At the part where the Opera Ghost was saying Christine wasn't going back to the light," the child answered softly. "Oh," was all Erik replied before continuing. He went on to tell her how Daae was frightened of this new side of her once called Angel, and she had a lover, Raoul de Chagny, who wanted to whisk her away.

He told of their plan, and how it backfired and how the Ghost had taken Christine hostage and captured the Vicomte and made a horrible plan to make Christine his wife. With genuine sorrow, he then spoke of how it backfired on the Opera Ghost himself, and he had set Christine and her lover free to do how they pleased. About the own fate of the Opera Ghost, he remained silent about it and instead said, "That's the end of the story, mademoiselle. What do you think?" Lark persisted though. "What happened to him, monsieur?" she asked quickly, not in a way that one would ask about a tale, but about someone they knew. Erik stared at her and said slowly, "Some say he died. Some say he's still living. I'm not sure, for I wouldn't know, mademoiselle." He stood up and plucked up his cane. "It's very late, my dear," he said kindly as Lark stared up at him sightlessly. "You best go inside before your caretakers come back." He took her hand and helped her to the girl's feet. "Thank you, monsieur," she said shyly, "for telling me the story. I needed to hear it."

Erik smiled sadly and bade her goodbye, turning to walk off until Lark grabbed his arm hurriedly. "Wait!" she cried, looking flustered. "Can you come back and talk with me tomorrow?" He gazed at her. "I want…to share a story as well, monsieur." She explained hurriedly. Erik smiled slightly and bowed. "But of course, mademoiselle." He said, kissing her hand which felt weird with his mask. Lark's face lightened slightly. "Thank you." She whispered and she turned and made her way back into the house, arms out and feeling the gate as it ran along beside her. Erik bit his tongue and exited as quietly as possible and hurried back to Rachel's and Richard's house; they would need to hear this.

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**Finally we're getting somewhere, non?**

**Erik: No.**

**Well...whatever. Please review? (gets Punjabbed)**


	64. Chapter 64

**Helloooooo readers! (turns on applaude machine) Yes yes, thank you all very much, I'm here forever! (turns off machine) Well lucky yous I have been writing a lot and I have come with the new chapter! (applause) Yes, yes, wait...where are you going? Aren't you going to listen to me talk? You're going to go read it? Why? Nooo! My publicity!**

**DISCLAIMER: I dun own Phantom, happy??**

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"Goodness, Lark, don't do that again!" Christine scolded, relieved as the child came in through the back door from the garden. The Vicomtess was waiting in the hall, looking worried as her husband had gone upstairs. "My apologies, Madame," Lark said softly, her voice switching back to the monotone. "I wanted to see the garden and I just now asked for the time." Christine sighed and walked over to her to give her a tight embrace then pulled her away to look at her straight in the fogged eyes. "Who did you ask?" The child remained blank faced but she shrugged. "I never asked for a name, Christine." The woman shook her head and gave a little sigh herself. "Next time you talk to people," she warned gently, "you must ask their name, alright?" Lark nodded and headed for the staircase, her hand closing over the rail for support. Raoul was heading down the stairs with gloves in his hand and, in passing the blind child, gave a small sneer before bidding his wife goodbye and telling her he would be back in awhile for he had business. The child felt rage bubble up inside but she kept her cool. She had sensed he had looked at her, and not with fondness that Christine would.

"Stupid man," she muttered darkly, and she raced up the stairs careful as always, and slammed her door in finding it. The child threw herself on the bed and fought against the tantrum that wanted to be released. _Think of the gentleman, think of what you're going to tell him. _She thought to herself, then her clenched fists relaxed and she traced the lace pattering on her sheets. "Wonder how I'll tell it?" she murmured.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Are you sure?" Rachel sat up more, nearly knocking over her glass of wine as the table gave a tremor. "Oh my God, are you sure, Erik?" They were all sitting at the dinning room table, Rachel and Richard still having their unfinished meal in front of them as they had started dinner not too long ago. Erik bowed his head. "Yes, she is completely blind." The woman gave a small cry and her hand covered her mouth. Richard looked pale as he wiped his lips with his napkin. "How?" he croaked, "How could her vision just…go?" Erik shrugged and fiddled his mask, he had changed out of the other he had worn while talking to Lark as soon as he got home, and making sure that the owners never saw him as such. Best leave what he was working on to himself then worry the two siblings. "I believe it was failing over the years and she just failed to notice until it was completely gone." But he had seen her squint from time to time…and didn't she say she was afraid of the dark? He shook his head sadly, now she would see anything but the dark. Rachel traced her lip in self-thought, wishing intently that this was all a bad dream. As she had promised to her brother, her work had been covered and she was not to work on it until Lark was back. Rachel agreed as it was a good idea at the time, and it still seemed so now. Nothing was more important than getting back that child to her rightful guardian.

"I'm going to go see her," Erik broke in quickly, looking pained as it took much out of him to admit it. "She doesn't….recognize me so I talked to her of course, and- and I'm going to see her again tomorrow." Richard looked at him with relief. "Of course," he said excitedly, "you can see if she's truly happy where she is! Then we will have something against them and we shall get her back!" Erik concurred and fiddled with his mask, the little black one in his pocket. Rachel, however, bit her lip nervously and spoke with quiet uncertainty. "What if…they don't let her go?" The men gaped at her, her brother with an open mouth and Erik with his silent golden stare. She took a quick breath and spoke again. "What if they don't care and they keep her? Are we going to, perhaps, _smuggle_ Lark away?" Richard started to protest but was silenced when Erik spoke. "If it takes it that far," he admitted chokingly, "Then I shall do whatever humanly possible to get my child back." He glowered broodingly at his hands. "She's unhappy, I can tell that much, but it's like…pardon the crudity…but it's like she's being brainwashed into thinking…" he let the sentence go suggestively and spread his hands. Richard finished for him. "Into thinking she's fine, that that's all she is going to get." He broke and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Rachel remained silently thoughtful as she gawked at both men. _Please, God, let it work out._ She prayed in her mind.

"As I said," Erik said finally, "I do not care anymore in what will happen. I want my child back and I will get her back in whatever way I can." He looked at both siblings square in the eye. "Do you support me? I can understand if you don't, but in order for this to work, we shall have to be on the same level." Rachel and Richard glanced once and each other and simultaneously voiced, "Yes."

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Lark had tossed and turned that night, her nightmares filled with new horrors and people she couldn't see and…Mama. She awoke that morning with a gasp of fright, drenched with a cold sweat. As usual she woke to nothing but darkness, but the sound of a servant wrenching back the curtains and mumbling a brief good morning and scurrying out of the room told the child that it was early morning. Trembling, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and hobbled out to her wardrobe. What do you wear to a secret meeting with a kindly old gentleman who you are going to tell everything no matter the consequences? Lark didn't know either and she felt each different shaped bead on the tip of the dresses' skirts over and over again, trying to decide. The dream frightened her and all she wanted right now was to get out so in her hurry, she tugged out the next dress she touched not caring the color –why? She couldn't see it- or the style –also not important as she never saw the stares she knew she received-. The child was about to trip over to the bathroom when a soft knock at the door made her turn around as the door creaked open.

"Lark, such an early riser for one so young!" Christine's sweet voice came through and Lark heard her careful footsteps cross the floor and felt her gentle arms embrace her. "Good morning, Christine." She said deceitfully. It wasn't a good morning unless she could feel the sun on her face and rose petals between her fingers. The Vicomtess smiled at the child and gave her another quick squeeze before looking at the dress she held. "Do you want me to brush your hair?" she asked, "we can make you look very pretty." Lark was used to this. Kind was Christine, and she was like an over-loving mother smothering the child with affection. The girl, however, nodded once and allowed herself to be carted to the bathroom and to be dressed and trussed up like Christine's personal doll. "You look so lovely," the woman gushed fondly as she gently brushed through the soft tangles in Lark's hair. "It's like you are going to an important meeting or party almost!" Lark nodded and rewarded the woman with a faint smile.

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**Review and you'll get an autograph by moi!**

**Erik: No one wants THAT! **

**Oh well fine, you'll get the next chapter faster, how's that?**


	65. Chapter 65

**Greetings readers! Thank you so much for reviewing, adding to favorites, and watch lists! Sorry I haven't updated quickly. It was a hard chapter BUT I had little time on it, too. So yeah...Here it is and I'm sorry if you had to wait! Don't hurt me!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Phantom, repeat, I do NOT own Phantom!**

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Thankfully Christine had business to take care of and Lark was soon set free to do as she pleased. Taking a spice bun from the kitchen for breakfast, she smelt them that morning, the child made her way out to the garden as easily as anyone with sight could. The house had become much simpler to move about in for her and she was glad that Christine could show her around and let her feel her way. Lark didn't hear anyone else but the birds chirping cheerfully and the slight wind rustling the rose bushes, sending their soft scent over her way. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the saddening scent as much as possible and settled herself down on the bench and nibbled on her spice bun. Why didn't they set a time yesterday? Lark sighed and took another bite of her treat and wondered if he was going to show up at all. She let her thoughts dwindle to vaguely wondering how she looked and to what Christine did to her hair. She knew she had put a ribbon in it, pulling only half of her hair up and leaving the rest to bath her shoulders, but a blind person would wonder what they looked like now and then. She then wiped her hands on her dress as she finished the last of her spice bun.

"Well now, here's a pretty face!" Lark smiled suddenly as she heard the gate open and the crunch of feet and a cane made their way over to her. She turned her face to the old gentleman and beamed in his direction. "You came!" she said happily. Erik, the gentleman, bowed and took her little hand, kissing it weirdly as his special mask was on before settling himself on the seat next to her. "Of course I came," he said gruffly, "wouldn't have missed it for the world." The child laughed a little, a sound he found that he missed dearly, and clapped her hands together. "I'm so happy!" she exclaimed, "I'm so very happy you did, thank you!" Erik stared at her and felt like crying but he held himself up and leaned back in his seat. "So," he said in a friendly voice, "what about this story you promised to tell me, mademoiselle?" A crease formed in her smooth forehead but she kept up her weak smile. "Oh yes, that's right," she said helplessly, "I wanted to tell you one as well, though…" She twisted her dress in her fingers nervously and stopped when the man laid a gentle gloved hand on hers, taking them up from their nervous twisting. "You do not have to tell me," he said softly, "if you do not wish to."

"No!" Lark shook her head determinedly, "No, I want to tell you, monsieur, let me tell you." Erik frowned, concerned but released her hand and waited patiently. The child bit her lip but grabbed his hand again, squeezing it once for some sort of reassurance before starting. "It's actually my story, my past really, monsieur." She said softly, "So it might be very strange to hear if you even want to listen." Erik placed another hand on top of hers and looked straight into her foggy eyes. "I want to know." He murmured his voice equally soft. She nodded and looked ahead and began very softly. "We had a…very large family. There were eight of us, Papa, Mama, four older brothers, and my little sister, and me. Papa died before my little sister was born. Mama said his name was Jonathan, and hers was Rebecca. He got sick one day, and he never got better, monsieur. Mama was already pregnant with my little sister but I remember her always worrying and never letting my brothers help her. I couldn't because I was too small."

"My brothers," here Lark smiled slightly, "were the best in the world. There was Charles, Peter, Luke, and Freiderich in that order. Charles was 20, Peter behind him in 19, Luke was 17, and Freiderich was only 15, same as me. They took care of everything when Papa died. Only my brothers understood how much Mama was hurting when Papa died."

"I barely understood, being so young and not even remembering him at all.But I remember us gathering around his grave, and Mama singing a little song. Later she taught us that song and told us to sing it whenever someone…went away. My brothers told me that it seemed like my Mama's soul died and was buried with my Papa and that she was somehow empty. I never noticed because I don't remember a time when he was alive and Mama was different. But then…" Lark frowned darkly. "The fire happened." Erik watched her as her fists began to clench tight on the folds of her dress. "No one knew how it was started, but it was at night and we were all asleep. We had a two story house with large windows but the fire happened we think downstairs. We all had rooms upstairs and my brothers didn't know until they heard the stair rail fall off because it was burned to charcoal and couldn't stay in place. My brothers said they couldn't get Mama because half the hallway floor had caved in. Mama and me were on the other side of the hole. My brothers said that she threw me to them and told them to get out. They refused of course, but she said to go and went inside her room."

"What else could they do? They hollared and yelled but she wouldn't come back, and they said the fire was growing. I only remember high flames and heat…" she shuddered. "Tremendous heat, and screams. My brothers and I got out alright, but the fire had gotten too big, and it crashed down! It began to rain a bit, thankfully, but we hadn't found Mama! We searched and searched, digging in huge piles of burned wood and ash. Our home was gone just like that, and now we couldn't even find our mother!" She paused here and a small drop of a tear fell from her eye onto her dress. "Finally, we spotted her, underneath the wreakage…she was crying and her skin was all red and burned. Her hands, all red and scorched, were kept over her face. My brothers ran to help her up and to hold her as she was very scared. None of us were exspecting to see anything like what we did when she removed her hands from her face." Erik remained silent, watching this small girl with horrified fasination. "What was there, mademoiselle?"

Lark's face tightened. "Nothing. Her face had been burned almost completely off. All you saw were the holes for her mouth, eyes and nose. Her eyelids were blackened, but they weren't burned off like….like the rest of her face. Mama had no nose, no eyebrows, not even ears. All was burnt off, and…and it was horrifying!" Lark's tears thickened, and streamed down her face. "Imagine my siblings horror, imagine my own! To see our sweet, beautiful, wonderful Mama turned into this blackened, burnt, ugly thing!" Erik twitched at that, and flinched back. "You don't like…ugly things?" he asked hesitantly. She turned on him, her fogged eyes peircing his. "I don't care!" she cried, "I don't care if her appearance was changed, if she was ugly. I don't care what someone looks like! Not when…not when she hid her face from us and shrank away screaming when we showed her a mirror. We tried to take her to the doctor, but she refused to be seen and she took care of herself somehow while locking my brothers and I out once we got new apartments after the fire was put out. Then everything was changed….because Mama came out one day….with a mask."

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**Now, I hope I can update before we leave on a camping trip, if not, you guys got a month to wait on me! **

**Erik: We apologize.**


	66. Chapter 66

**Hallo, hallo, hallo! Luckily and stupidly we didn't leave as soon as I thought! It's offical that we are leaving tomorrow, however. GOOD NEWS is that I was able to work on a chapter while we were packing. I'm sorry this is going to be the longest one! **

**DISCLAIMER: Never in my lifetime will I own Phantom. (tear)**

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**Part 66:**

"She hid her face at all times, and the mask was always on. We had bought another house, much smaller than our last, and time passed slowly. My little sister was born, but she died a month later from fever. Mama had to bury her along with Papa in the graveyard, and she sang the same song. We had bought a new home, like I said before, but it was a new town. There were too many painful memories for Mama to stay in our old one. My brothers….they took care of everything. The management, money, food, and I and Mama were all under the care of my four brothers. But then….Luke died, in a bar fight when he was doing business with the man that sold us our house. They took him to us, and Mama was the first one to answer the door." Lark shuddered, "Oh I will never forget her cry of grief! That was the first time anyone else outside our family saw her and her mask. When she saw Luke dead on the stretcher, she started to scream and cry. We all came running downstairs me and my other brothers. It was too late, and she had already torn off her mask in grief and the few men that took Luke's body back to us saw her face. They were alarmed and frightened, but my brothers told them to leave before they could question us."

"Freiderich and Peter had to hold my mother back from the door because she had begun to scream at the men. Saying over and over that it was their fault her son was dead. Charles had to send them all away after they gave us our brother's body. Once again, we traveled back to the old graveyard and buried him next to Papa and my little sister. This time, Mama and Charles sang the song. It was….tramatizing for Mama. She went for days not eating unless one of us forced her to eat something. Other times she would just go outside in the backyard and cry. Her mask was kept on at all times now. She never even removed it to sleep and it hurt her face. It bled sometimes but she would not let us help her clean out the sores or cuts. All seemed to be back in order when summer came along, we liked to swim near the river by the old stone bridge outside the town." Lark's fogged eyes seemed far away now. Erik stared at her expressionless and waited for her to start again. With a sigh of sorrow, the child opened her mouth.

"This seemed almost typical, but….Peter couldn't swim. He stayed on the bank with Mama and talked to her while Charles and Freiderich taught myself to swim. Only sometimes, the other boys from town would come along to swim in the lower banks. Normal people, especially the other children in our town avoided our family as much as possible because of the few mens' gossip about 'a hideous beast'. Mama ignored the townsfolk and the townsfolk ignored Mama but they loved to talk about her behind their hands when we had to go to Mass. Yes, we still went to Mass as Mama was Catholic like Papa was. Anyways, the town's boys' loved to tease Peter about how he couldn't swim and how he avoided water at all costs. He ignored their taunts but Charles and I could tell it bothered him. One day, they pulled Peter away and talked, laughed, and joked with him like they became his friends." Lark smiled mornfully here. "He was elated at dinner that night and boasted that they were all going out that night to do something fun. Mama was suspicious and forbad him to go, saying that she needed him here with us. What would that do but fuel his needs to go join the other boys? Charles didn't forbid him, but warned him of their tricks. I guess Peter was insulted because he argued and yelled at Charles, saying that he didn't trust his choice of friends."

"He said that they accepted him and wanted to be friends with him, truly. Charles disagreed and then started to say that he should stay home. Peter refused, and claimed that nothing would stop him from joining the 'real world'. Mama heard this and began to scream at him, telling Peter that if he didn't want to be part of our family, then he could go off with 'those stupid boys'. Peter got angry and said that he would and he ran out of the house. Mama was still mad because she headed off to the music room and began to play the piano furiously." Lark paused to take a deep breath. "Peter never came home that night, though Mama was far from angry anymore and even waited long for him to apear. Charles and Freiderich then got too worried and went out to find him. They…they didn't have to go far, because the boys came running up our lawn screaming that Peter was dying. Mama fainted while Charles and Freiderich ran after them. I was so scared and I waited outside in my sleeping garments even though it was a cold night."

"I saw my brothers in the distance and I shrieked with glee and ran to them. But….it was for not for when I got closer, I saw that….that they were carrying Peter in their arms. He was dead. Drowned. I screamed, and Mama had somehow got out –we lock her inside for her safety- and when she saw Peter she screamed so loud! She didn't stop either!" Lark rocked back and forth, arms tight around her chest. "She screamed and screamed until I came up to her. Then she threw herself into my arms and began to weep. Later, after Peter was buried and after my two brothers and Mama sang, we learned that the boys he had went out with had dared him to cross the river. It had rained the night before, and the current was too strong. Had it been a dry summer, the river's current wouldn't have been able to harm him and he might have been able to cross. The water's power had dragged him under and….the others never helped him! A few weeks later was the worst because that's when Freiderich passed away from some sort of food poisoning. The doctor Charles called said it did something to his intestines and they burst. That wasn't what was the scariest part. What scared me the most was that Mama didn't cry anymore. She never cried."

"Me and Charles were the last, but Mama barely recognized that we were even living. Charles was having a lot of trouble with the townsfolk because the gossip got worse and worse every month. I….I heard someone in church whispering that Mama killed her own children and that she planned all these accidents because she was a…a maniac. They fear her because of her rage and her face." Lark's face hardened and she became unreadable to Erik. "They were rallying slowly, this I now know. Before it had seemed innoccent enough with the town getting together. Filthy lies were spread faster during these meetings and they came up with horrible things! Finally….finally merely a few months later, they came for her. They came straight to our door in the middle of the night. Charles and I were up only trying to figure out last months payments at the table. He got the door….and they demanded he bring the 'monster' out to them. He asked why. They wanted to kill her and be rid of the wicked demon that feasted on its own young. That made him so angry….it made me so angry…" She bit her lip. "I will leave out any details, as they…they are too horrific for me to…to voice. I shall make it simple. Charles refused, they dragged him out and shot him. I screamed and they came in to get me as well. Mama had heard and she had a gun when she came downstairs."

"She never screamed or cried out when she saw Charles' dead body on our doorstep, but she lifted the gun and shot anyone who was coming in. She grabbed me and we ran, her shooting behind us and them shooting at us from the back. It was horrible. Horrible. To know we left Charles cold and dead behind, and our house with everything inside…they clipped her arm only but somehow…we got out of there. For a couple of days we kept traveling farther and farther from our home. Mama never cried nor spoke." The child traced a rose petal that had fallen on her hand. "We found somewhere new and we were…happy. For the while we only had each other and even though we lived in a shack, the village left us alone as they only saw me now since it was too dangerous for Mama to go out. We lived like that…for only a half a year. Then the village heard about us from the gypsys that had visited there for a festible. I was gone from the house and from Mama in the village market. I heard the mob and saw it rally. The lady behind the counter recognized me as the 'demon's child' and held me back. I fought her off." Lark's voice was breaking but she stopped to take a quick breath. "I got free and ran as fast as I could….the house was burned down. Mama was inside last time I left her and I searched in the ashes."

"In finding only a trail of what seemed to be blood, I followed it until it came to Mama. But….she was dead. Everyone….all seven were dead in the end. They searched for me but they were only looking for a girl. I became a boy." Suddenly she turned and grabbed out to Erik's hands and in catching them, stared up at him with foggy eyes filled to the brim with tears. "I think you know the rest…Monsuier_ Erik_!"

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**I will be gone a month for the whole but seek comfort in reviewing and making death threats to me!**

**Erik: I give you permission to do whatever to the authoress you would wish, reader. She deserves it as she is leaving you at such an _inconvienent_ time.**


	67. Chapter 67

**Aaaand we're back! We got home late last night, I finished the new chapter, found that FanFiction wasn't working that night, went to Band Camp today until 5, had dinner then did the dishes and NOW I shall UPDATE! YAY! -applause-**

**DISCLAIMER: I have _never_ owned Phantom of the Opera nor _will_ I start to. **

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Erik stared at her for what seemed an eternity, and then it was all over when the child leapt forward into his unready arms sobbing. "Erik, Erik, why did you leave me? Was it something I did?" she clung to him tight and Erik felt his arms encircle her equally tight. She hiccupped as she apologized. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry for anything I did to make you mad, didn't I? _I'm so sorry_!" He felt tears burning the corners of his eyes but he ignored that and held his child in an unyielding hug. "How did you know…?" he asked softly, letting his fake voice slide away like rain in the gutters. "How could you tell it was me…?" Lark couldn't answer as she was laughing, crying, and hiccupping all at the same time. He held her away from him to inspect her but she gave a cry and clung to him again. "I-I spent the last few days when I was with you studying you." Lark laughed a little to herself. Erik felt his eyebrows rise in bemusement. "Everything you did," she continued, "the way you walked, the way your voice sounded…all so that if I closed my eyes and you faked something, I could tell it was always just you." Her hands reached out to touch his face, but he felt nothing as her fingers glided over the false mask. Lark recoiled with, what Erik thought as first was disgusted shock for maybe she thought it wasn't him after all, but it was merely with surprise that she did so. "So that's how…how you got to see me!" she said accusingly, smiling wider than Richard's smile could ever go. It changed her face immensely.

Erik returned her smile even if she could not see it and hugged her tight once more. She then poked his cheek and, giggling felt it concernedly. "Is it plastered to your face or something…?" she asked curiously. He felt a small cackle release itself from his vocal cords. "No," he said, grinning. "No, it can come off." His grin faded. "But I better not-.." Lark was already working at the corner of the mask, getting her fingers underneath it so that she could touch his face, his real face. Erik started, but relaxed; barely. Sending cautious glances towards the mostly hidden streets and the high, curtained windows of the De Chagny's mansion Erik knew it would be a strange sight to any passersby if they saw a child ripping off a man's face. "Maybe you shouldn't…" he started to say but Lark had already peeled it completely off with a tug. A cool breeze played across his bare face sending comfort to his hot skin. "There." The child said with a satisfactory air, the mask lolling from her hand onto her lap. A smile spread across Lark's face as she lifted up her fingers to his cheek. By a lifetime long born instinct, Erik flinched away. "Sorry," she murmured with a guilty grin. "Christine told me that most blind people feel their friends or new persons with their fingers to know what they look like. I have never tried it."

Erik nodded slowly then spoke as he remembered she couldn't see him nod. "I see." He shifted uncomfortably as she once again reached for his face. Lark paused and gently brushed her fingertips over his face, barely touching the delicate flesh. "I apologize," she said humbly, "I'm making you uncomfortable, but can you let me…?" Erik set his jaw, keeping very still as she traced around his eyes. "It is…necessary," he said, "So I shall not move." A relieved sigh escaped her lips and as quickly and carefully as she could, she traced Erik's whole distorted face memorizing every inch of it in her mind. "Alright, I'm finished, Erik." She said, drawing away. It was Erik's turn to sigh with relief. Close contact, especially around his face, always put him on edge. Lark suddenly beamed and stared with her glassy eyes in her guardian's direction. "You do not know how…how happy I am to see…er…_hear_ you!" She twisted her hands together unconsciously while gazing off into the distance. "I had thought…that I would never ever hear you again even when I knew that I wouldn't be able to see you no matter..." she broke off.

"It was the same…for me as well, Lark." Erik said difficultly, shifting in his seat. "I suppose that I was more dead than alive as mademoiselle Rachel said once." Here the small child had started to laugh, more than she had ever. Erik found himself smiling and they chatted away through the day, unaware of the dark figure up in the top window of the De Chagny household.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Richard paced his study with his sibling watching him go back and forth along the rug. "You're going to create a hole into the ground, Rich," his sister, Rachel murmured. "And this is a rather expensive carpet." He spun around to send her a poisonous glare. "How can you take this so calmly?" he snapped irritably. "Erik's gone, Rachel! No note, no anything!" His sister observed him calmly over a book in her hand as he rambled on. "That man's crazy with grief, who knows where he went or what he's doing! He could have gone out and killed himself for all we know!" Rachel looked up sharply. "Don't." she said, eyes flashing. "Erik wouldn't be so foolish." Richard scowled at her and continued pacing. "Oh yes? Then if he is not foolish, why did he spend months doing absolutely nothing? He didn't even eat!" He stopped and looked out the study window. "My God, the man didn't sleep even! Just stared ahead with his eyes, his dead eyes!" A snap was heard throughout the room. Rachel had slammed her book closed.

"Can you blame him, Rich?" she demanded harshly, "Those…those _people_ stole the only thing that kept his soul alive! Kept ourselves up and cheerful!" The man just stared at her, his face becoming red with frustration. "Rachel…" he started, but she had already stood up and marched out the door, slamming it shut. "Do not talk to me, Richard!" she screeched through the door and the stunned man heard her light footsteps stomp up the stairs, her chamber doorway swinging closed with such a force he felt the house tremble slightly. "Women!" Richard said furiously, making his own way out of the room pausing just in the doorframe. "Dramatic, silly, foolish women!" He turned and slammed the door when something heavy fell out of one of the shelves. Richard paused, it sounded rather heavier than most of the volumes he kept. Creaking the door open once again, he saw that a large book of accounts had fallen from the shelf and there on the floor half out of its cover…Richard gripped the door handle hard. "No…no, it couldn't be…" he rushed into the room and snatched the sheet up, feeling almost ill. There it was, right in his very grasp.

Rebecca's will.

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**Working on the next one now! Review if you like! Erik's getting tired of talking to me.**

**Erik: Too right, authoress.**

**Ouch...**


	68. Chapter 68

**Greetings and thank you, thank you for the wonderful reviews full of praise and warm welcome backs! It means a lot, so I don't want to dissapoint any one of you! I'd like to also thank the new readers who recently added my story in their favorites! Thank you very much! And another thanks to the faithful readers who were there from the very first chapter! And now without further ado, chapter 68!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, why do I have to keep telling you this????**

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Erik was the first and only one to notice that the sky had darkened and the last shreds of the sun's weak light had disappeared from the air. He stood up, still holding onto Lark's hand; it had given the child much comfort to have something to hold onto and it also told her when he moved around. Not that she wouldn't hear him first. As he had stood up, she looked up at him, or to be exact, up at a tree branch. "What is wrong?" she asked curiously. Erik glanced down at her. "It's dark out now, and it's late." He explained patiently, and then a thought struck him. Quickly he pulled the child to her feet, steadying her when she stumbled slightly. "Come back with me!" he said quickly his alighting with the wonderful vision of Lark coming home. "We can make it back without _them_ noticing." Lark's face brightened tremendously and Erik's heart leapt at the thought that she would join him but then her little face darkened at the same moment. "No," she said slowly frowning at the ground. Erik stared at her, heart sinking like a stone. "You…you don't want to leave?" he murmured painfully, quite composed against the unbearable thought. He might as well have never come to see her! Terror suddenly filled her face. "No! No, that's not it at all!" she cried, holding tightly to his hand. "I- what I mean is-.." Anguish was the only thing he felt from her as her face creased. "Christine!" she bawled finally, though her eyes were still uneasily dry. "She will…I mean… she knows you! She knows you, Erik!"

Lark was terrified of something though for the entire world Erik had no idea what…what Christine had to do with it. "What do you mean…?" he asked, perplexed. Lark gestured to the house hopelessly. "She would know what happened if I disappeared! What if…what if she called the police? I will not allow it." The child shook her head firmly. "I won't allow to be taken away again for some stupid, thoughtless reason that she comes up with!" Erik stared at her in surprise and was shocked further still at her next sentence. "Come back tomorrow, Erik," she said softly, "I will be here and…and I will personally fix this!" She nodded again as if to confirm herself and she let go of his hand rather unwillingly. "I promise, so do not ask what I will do. Just…come back tomorrow." She peered in his direction with a face so full of past pains and grief that Erik only just contained himself from comforting her. "I promise." He heard himself say to her. He got his reward as she beamed and felt for him; he took her hand and was startled when the child embraced him tightly. "Thank you for finding me! For not giving up on me!" she sobbed, and real genuine tears she had not shed for all those months flowed out.

Erik said nothing but returned her hug gently, holding her to him for as long as she wanted. After awhile Lark released him, sniffed once and, wiping her face clear of tears turned back to the mansion and made her way to the door. Only pausing once to wave back at him crying "Promise!" she turned and let herself in the house. With a feeling of something much like joy, Erik took up the forgotten cane and made his own way back to Rachel and Richard's home without any conflict besides his thoughts of: "How will she fix it?"

"Erik…" Raoul growled under his breath, glaring out the window. He watched as the small girl hugged him and made her way back inside. Watching the man with something like a loathing, the Count followed the unmasked, ugly man out of the garden and into the streets with his eyes. Oh how he wanted him to disappear! Without another word and barely a glance at Lark who was being lectured gently by Christine about being out so late downstairs, he stomped his way to his study and sat down to think.

"I would rather not talk about it." Erik said curtly, not even looking up from the piano in the attic where he could feel the siblings' stares boring into the back of his skull. Richard made a noise that resembled a goose being deflated. Rachel stood against the door, her lip bit against the questions that were begging to be released and launched at the masked man. Erik smirked behind his newly and originally worn mask. "No, I am deeply sorry, but all you need to know is that Lark will be here safe and sound by this time tomorrow." Richard gave another squawk. His sister couldn't contain herself. "How?" she blurted. "How is this possible, Erik?" He barely heard her as he shuffled his papers wondering why he had never resumed working on them. Richard was currently turning the color of a beet as he sputtered something impalpable. The woman stared at Erik eagerly as he turned around to face them. His answer however, was far from satisfactory. "Lark says she will take care of it." He said bluntly.

"That, that makes no…no sense!" Richard finally gasped out, glaring at Erik with a slightly wild look in his eye. "How can she…she's so young, there's no way she could…How, Erik? _How do you know_?" Rachel nodded furiously, wringing her hands, but unlike her brother she was only worried instead of flustered and furious at Erik's lack of explanation. However, the man seemed to frown and a slightly vexed look came to the gold eyes. "Rachel," he intentionally spoke only to her causing Richard to gape then gibber angrily at him inexpressibly. Erik ignored this and continued to talk almost gently to Rachel. "Rachel, I myself do not know her plans exactly but she has my full trust and confidence. Is that not good enough for you?" He looked at her curiously, not angry at her for doubting but merely inquisitive on why she would. To both of the men's surprise, she blushed a fiery red. "No! No, I don't doubt you, you or Lark, at all." She mumbled, not looking at him or her flabbergasted brother.

"Am I the only one who is sane here?" shouted Richard, finding his voice after an awkward silence. Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and stomped down to his room, his door slamming loudly. Rachel winced but Erik remained impassive and turned back to his music like he all but just witnessed a small bird twittering angrily about a lost worm. "He is probably right, mademoiselle." He said calmly after awhile, dipping his pen in his ink. The woman smiled weakly. "I suppose he is." She murmured, and also opened the door to let herself out. "I just hope that Lark knows what she is doing…" The door closed silently. Erik sighed and put his pen down. "Don't we all, mademoiselle," he said, "don't we all."

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**Reviews are lovely. Readers are lovely. You're all wonderfully lovely!!**

**Erik: ...Help me. x-x'**


	69. Chapter 69

**Yes! I finally get to update for you all! ANd this was almost the hardest chapter...it's so long I was thinking about cutting some parts off and just adding on to the last chapter. Yes, the next one will probably be the very. Last. One. T-T**

**DISCLAIMER: No one but Leroux owns Phantom of the Opera. If I can't have him, neither can you!!**

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True to his word, Erik began to set off to the De Chagny mansion without a word to Richard that entire morning. Rachel, however, had offered him the carriage and also wondered if he would like her to accompany her. "I can help if you want…" she trailed off as she stood shivering on the porch. Erik bowed to her elegantly. "Thank you, mademoiselle," Rachel frowned a little. "Rachel only, please." She said quietly pondering if Erik was always so formal with everyone. He didn't hear her speak against this, though, and he went on. "I highly appreciate your help but I think it will be less trouble if only I come." He looked up at her, locking eyes with her with a slight air of a stern but gentle parent. "You understand, yes?" The woman felt herself quiver and she tore her eyes away from the burning gold. "Of course. It's only necessary and I- I understand that, Erik." He looked relieved and with another sweeping bow, clamored into the carriage and took up the reins. Rachel lifted a hand to wave but dropped it, startled when the front door banged open. Spinning around she barely caught a glimpse of her brother looking red and flustered bolting down the stairs to the carriage. "Wait!" The man gasped, running up to the surprised Erik. "Wait!" Erik, looking odd in such a normal carriage with his rather sinister masked face, set down the reins and gave Rachel's brother his full attention. Richard leaned on his knees to catch his breath.

"You'll…you'll need… this." He wheezed, handing Erik an official looking document. "It is…Rebecca's…Lark's mother, if you don't know….will. It's her will." Rachel gasped and leaned against the porch post, a hand to her mouth. Erik, even more startled, took it gently and tucked it carefully in his cloak. "Thank you very much, Richard." He said solemnly. Richard nodded, still drawing for air and waved him on, urging the black and white speckled horses on with a light smack on their hindquarters. Trudging back onto the porch the two siblings watched as their odd friend set off to the mansion far from their own. Rachel stared at Richard. "Where did you find it?" she asked. He shrugged, finally finding his breath. "Found it in my study account book. Rebecca must have slipped it in when she visited once. You were gone at that time in Rome." He added, noticing her sister's quizzical look. "Ahh." She stared back out to the road. "What did she leave…?" Richard rubbed his hands together for warmth. "Let's talk about it inside, we'll explain it to Lark herself when she gets back." Rachel nodded in agreement and rubbed her shoulders, following her brother through the door.

"You think Erik will get her back?" She asked, looking sideways at him.

"Yes," Richard replied wryly. "A man that insane could become the Emperor of Paris as well as get Lark back without so much as breaking a sweat." Rachel hid a grin.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Lark got lucky that morning as Raoul needed Christine's advice on some new investment or something. She would be left alone to amuse herself in anyway a blind child could. Which wasn't much….to them. Lark knew that they didn't suspect anything, Christine was as fussy and motherly as ever and the Count ignored her like she was a little ghost, or acted as if she were a mere, rather ugly little vase in the corner. Not that she minded this, in fact she rather preferred Raoul's inattentiveness to her. She found him more threatening and cynical than anyone she had ever met; his eyes were always watching her warily as though her very presence could somehow harm his beloved. Yet he left her quite alone to which Lark was very thankful for, it made things ever so much easier. Even so she still tiptoed as quietly as she could to the stairs taking each one on a delicate, featherlike creep till she reached the bottom. Her heart pounding in her ears Lark slunk impeccably to the back door and eased herself into the garden letting a triumphant smile spread across her face.

"Lark."

A pleasant voice, a caring voice, one she hoped she would always hear forevermore after this. The child's smile widened and she reached out her hands to find them being enveloped between Erik's. She could hear a smile in his tone and elation filled her to the brim. This is who she belonged with! "Hello, Erik!" she said breathlessly, smiling in his direction, her fingers tightening gently on his hand. She felt him lead her over to their familiar bench and Lark sat down obediently when he did. "Now," Erik's voice was filled with barely suppressed curiosity, "What is this big plan you have?" The child grinned, he always got right down to business her guardian did.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Raoul had kept a wary eye on the child even though she never realized it. It twisted his stomach horribly when he thought of that living corpse walking around his estate. He had thought that he and his wife had been rid of this…this Opera ghost long after he took Christine away from him; but when he saw him outside in the garden… Raoul suppressed a shudder. It was like Christine had said so long ago atop the Opera house when she told of her horrendous story of being with Erik. '_I've never seen him in the daylight…it…it must be horrible!_' Horrible it was, too. All signs of his hideous face had been shown perfectly in the bright sunlight. The girl…Lark…she did not mind it seemed. Or perhaps she had never seen the monsters face? The Count had been talking with his wife but now done with that he wondered where the little child had run off to. He had a bad feeling that it would end with Erik coming back again, endangering Christine. And he would not stand for it!

Raoul's worry increased tenth fold as he searched all over the mansion, looking conspicuous about finding Lark. Unable to find her at all he returned to his wife. Christine was writing in their room and the small girl wasn't with her. He swallowed and approached her from behind, kissing her forehead. "I cannot find Lark," he said gravely when Christine looked up at him with a smile. She didn't look as surprised as he had hoped. "Oh don't worry about her, Raoul." She sighed, going back to her writing. "She's off amusing herself somewhere…" Her husband scowled. "That's what I am worried about." Christine looked up sharply, the correct amount of worry that he wanted spread on her face. "What?" Raoul frowned slightly and gently pulled his wife to her feet. "I think we should go check up on her." He announced. "How do we know she is alright, Christine? Remember she is-.."

"Blind!" The woman gasped, a hand rushing to her throat in anguish. "Oh, how could I forget..? Yes, we must go check on her!" They rushed out of the room and Raoul told her how he already searched the whole house. "The garden, then!" said Christine as they came to the entrance hall. "She always goes into the garden."

"Yes, I do, Christine." A small voice said from behind them. Raoul let out an unconscious snarl at the same time Christine gasped aloud. Lark was there holding the hand of the one they wished they would never have to deal with again. Erik. "Get out!" Raoul nearly shouted, stepping in front of Christine, shielding her. Erik observed him with a cold stare. "I am not after your beloved, boy." He said, eyes flashing. "You've made sure of that. No, I am only here from the thing you two cannot take from me again." Erik gestured the child and fell silent, returning the malevolent stares that shot his way from the Count. Christine stared with mute horror at her once-called angel and the small girl she took care of. "Lark…." She whispered brokenly. "Lark, I wanted…I cared…I wanted to keep you safe of him." A shudder of pain shook Erik's skeletal frame and his gold eyes filled with agony, replacing the hate that was there only a few moments ago. "Keep me safe?" Lark had spoken again and this time it was her own little, innocent voice chock-full of shaking rage ranking years and years old. "Keep me safe! From what?" she spat suddenly.

Only Erik did not look at her with disconcert as he kept staring at his love with misery and regret. "Everyone seems to think he's…he's sort of a mad lunatic!" the child continued, her tiny voice reaching to almost a screech she was so furious at these stupid foolish people! "And he's not! I know he's not! I thought you knew that before, yourself once, _Madame!_" Christine looked at her with a bewildered look and her husband's face turned stony. "Do not speak of what you do not know, girl." He hissed. "And don't you _dare_ to talk like that to my wife!" The Count took a step forward to the girl but it was Erik's turn to let out a snarl, and it was by far more menacing and guttural than Raoul's had been. The young man hastily took a step back eyes widening with horror. The masked man was certainly insane, he growled exactly like a fierce wolf! Lark's hard bitter face softened as she looked in the other woman's direction with a strange look of pity in her glassy, fogged eyes. "Please, Christine. Let me go, let me go with Erik." Her lip trembled. "I was…so afraid when I woke up and he wasn't there. Instead it was you two." Erik's hand tightened on hers. The Countess suddenly frowned and shook her head firmly. "No, Lark! I cannot allow you to go with this ma-…"

"Let her go, Christine." Raoul spoke softly, still staring at Erik with intense hatred only the two of them could understand. His wife looked up at him, speechless. He didn't look at her but spoke directly to the two people in front of him. "I never wanted to take you in, Lark. You had too much involvement with him" Raoul scowled at Erik who glowered. "I could tell, and I am not sorry for this, but I could tell that if we took you we would once again be tangled up with _him_." He pointed an accusing finger at the masked man who growled low under his breath. "Raoul…" Christine started. "No." Raoul shook his head. "We need them out of our lives, my dear. How else can we live normally with such people as them?" He looked at her sadly. "I want us to have a family that's safe from this past. Let's put it behind us." Christine just stared then glanced at Lark who was clinging to Erik's hand tightly, lips clamped tightly together.

"But she's just a child! Just a child, Raoul!" She said tearfully. Raoul's face became stony again. "We cannot control what she chooses her life to be." He glanced at the child who peered calmly out of empty eyes. "If that's what she wants, she may take that path. Lark isn't our own, Christine, so we must let her go." Christine clung to him and pleaded with her eyes. "But…just a small girl…surely…" Her husband shook his head sadly and took her into his arms; Erik suppressed a small sob of longing. Raoul tipped Christine's chin up towards him. "I want us to have a safe and normal life. We cannot have that if we keep attaching ourselves to this sort of situations. You understand, my love?" The woman's face fell, but then after what seemed an eternity, she nodded and turned to Lark with a sad smile. "I had….hoped you would be happier here. But it seems…" her eyes strayed to Erik who remained silent. "That I cannot control where you go. Be happy, dear. You can leave." A small gasp released itself from Lark's lips and she raced over to Christine who hurriedly took her in her arms so that the child would not hurt herself in being blind. "Thank you!" Lark cried happily, hugging her tight. "Oh, thank you, thank you! I will be happy! I will! Thank you!"

The Countess wiped away a tear and released the girl who beamed in joy and scampered back over to Erik. "We can go now." She said softly. "I really want to see…err…hear Richard and Rachel again." Erik agreed and led her out of the mansion, turning back slowly to Christine and Raoul who were standing side by side watching. "Thank you…" Erik said awkwardly, and with one more glance at Christine, followed the young girl and helped her into the carriage with an elated feeling. They were both going home!

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**Reviews make me so happy! And when I'm happy, I type faster! 'Course that means I use spell check more...but still...hm.**

**Erik: Isn't she hopeless?**


	70. Chapter 70

**I'm soooo sorry I haven't updated quickly enough! I swear, just one more and then you will never have to wait on me again! Anyways, the week has been busy as well as time-consuming. I've had Band all week, and homework to be done. I know these are just excuses, but they're all I got! A great big thanks to my faithful readers and another warm welcome and thanks for the new readers who have just added my story! It means a lot to me! T-T **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Phantom of the Opera.**

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_**Part Seventy:**_

"Oooh, I cannot believe they let me go! Monsieur De Chagny the most I suppose, I thought he hated me." Erik listened patiently to Lark's stream of happy babbling as they pulled away from the magnificent mansion. Personally he, too, could not believe how simple it was to take her away. If only it had been that easy to whisk Christine away from the boy so long ago…still. He glanced over at the child who was practically bouncing up and down in joy and excitement. She was his new joy in this life…and he wouldn't leave her for the world. Christine was gone but Lark would always be there by his side. "…And then I never had to do anything more because he was so willing to let me go!" The child continued. A confused look came into her face and she turned her head towards Erik. "You do not think that Monsieur De Chagny hated me, did he? I do not wish to be hated." He glanced at her, studying the worried line that creased on her otherwise smooth forehead.

"He did it out of protection, _mon chère_." He sighed finally, twitching the reins. "Monsieur De Chagny thought only of his…his wife's protection as well as happiness. And, I am sorry if it offends you, you were a threat to that with your relationship with me." Lark nodded and twisted her hands together, the worried crease gone. "I would rather be with you in a dungeon than with anyone else someplace nice!" she said suddenly, a smile to equally match Richard's scattering across her mouth. "Would you, now?" Erik said, a smile twisting his face behind his mask. "Well I'm sorry to inform you but there will be no dungeon where we are going." Lark rolled her eyes but laughed all the same. It felt good to be back where she belonged.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Lark! Oh, Lark, dear!" Rachel clung to her as if she had lost her child but found her again. Erik and Richard stood a few feet away wondering if they should help the child or not from the suffocating clutches of the older woman. "Ra-chel, I- can't- breathe!" Lark gasped, but she was grinning widely all the same. She had also shrieked with joy when Richard and Rachel nearly pulled her off her seat in the carriage as she and Erik had pulled up to the front of the house. Erik glanced at his companion and gave a wry grin as Rachel released the child, apologizing happily. "They seem very happy to be together, again." Richard also grinned, though his was visible. "Yes, she was watching out the window for a sign of you two. Or just you, if that had been the case." He paused and turned to face Erik. "I'm glad you got her back but…how in the world's end did you?" Erik remained silent and continued to watch Lark and Rachel laugh together. "Do you know?" The younger man persisted. "You do, I know you do."

"Hey, Erik!" Laughed Lark suddenly, "can you help me up the stairs? Rachel will kill me by accident if I left her lead me!" They heard Rachel complain that it wasn't her fault she was struck with sudden clumsiness now and then but was willing to try if Erik refused. Richard followed his companion closely, determined not to be distracted from his answer. Erik, however, was keener in helping Lark with a chuckle and a prod in the back to get her moving the right way. The woman, smiling widely, took the child's arm and it seemed everybody was trying to help her into the house at once. "Alright! Alright, I'm in! …Or am I?" Lark's laugh seemed to make everyone's heart both smile and cry. A smile, for her good nature and humor of it all, and tears for such a loss at so young an age. So many things she had and would never see! Erik was there waiting with more patience than he had ever owned in his entire lifetime at her elbow, guiding her with simple prods and trying not to start steering her like a dog in its paces. "Yes, you're in, can you feel the carpet under your feet?"

"Yes, but sometimes the snow is as soft as the carpet." Lark said, frowning to herself. Rachel threw an anxious glance at her but she seemed to sense this, and the child rewarded her with a beam of pleasure. "I love the scent of your house!" she sighed. Richard laughed, but kept trying to catch Erik's eye to which he seemed to miss. "What does it smell like, Larky?" The girl giggled at her old nickname and took a deep breath as her guardian and female friend helped her sit on the couch; they were in the lounge room. "Ah, I love the smell," she sighed. "Your house smells like…maple syrup and rain." Richard's eyebrows rose and surreptitiously sniffed the air around him. Rachel chuckled and Erik's eyes seemed to smile. "Erik smells like rose petals, and Christine's house smelled heavy, like jasmine." Lark's nose wrinkled in distaste. "It was hard to breathe at first. I thought I would have to get _used_ to it!" It was Erik's turn to raise his eyebrows, and he was very glad he had a mask to hide his face for all the heat crept up into it.

Rachel smiled ruefully and sat down next to Lark. "Honey," she began throwing a look at her brother. "My brother found something, while you were away." She looked up at the men, Erik gestured elegantly that she should continue while her brother nodded solemnly. Lark's face contorted into a worried, thin-lipped look of someone way older than her thirteen years. "Oh," was all she got past her expression. Unconsciously, her little hands started to wring themselves rigorously in her dress's lining. Rachel took her hands into her own to prevent this and laughed gently, jostling the small child encouragingly. "Oh, my dear, my honey, do not look so worried!" she said. "You look like a worried old nanny, it isn't bad!" Lark didn't respond but her thin-lipped mouth loosened slightly. She freed one of her hands and held it out. The woman and her brother looked at it curiously, but looked bewildered. Erik, however, calmly slipped his own hand into hers. The child relaxed more and became very alert. "Alright, Rich." She said, trying to sound casual, though her petite voice quavered. "What did you find?" Richard looked at Erik and held out a hand, not unlike Lark did. The masked man nodded, and slipped his other free hand into his cloak pocket and drew out the document. Lark heard the rustling of the paper and clung vise-tight to her guardian's skeletal, wintry hand even though Erik's fingers twitched slightly in protest.

"Lark, I found your mother's will." Richard said slowly. "Ouch…!" Erik winced as Lark nearly squeezed his fingers off his hand. He cast a reproachful look and Lark, who seemed to know when someone was looking at her, grimaced sheepishly and loosened her hand considerably of the death grip she had before. "M-Mama's will?" she stammered. Richard nodded, and then, grimacing, said a vocal agreement. It was very easy to forget she was blind when you got past the hazy almost deadened look. "I found it in my study and…quite frankly I am surprised but…she left you a lot of land!" He peered at the document closer. Everyone in the room besides the child seemed to lean closer to the will also, as if expecting a large secret to be revealed. "A house, as well!" Richard said, clearly surprised. He had not read deeply into it before he had handed it to Erik. "A…a house?" Lark sounded almost close to tears. "How could she leave a house if all the ones we lived in were…were burned down? We had nothing left!" Rachel moved closer to offer some sort of soothing reassurance but the child just shook her away, now in tears.

"She left you money…not much, but enough…" Richard continued as though he had not heard Lark's protests. Her wails increased and Richard had to raise his voice to be heard. "The land is eight acres including a small cottage by the cliffs that lead to the shore!" He almost yelled. "And I quote, '_My only daughter, Lark, is to inherit all my sums and land. Her guardian, whomever she chooses, is to take care of all this until she reaches the proper age to take control herself.'_" Erik was bewildered. "How is any of this possible when all their property was destroyed?" Richard leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose while his sister tried to consol the weeping child. "I would imagine it was a backup. Rebecca knew she would die," Lark let out a dry sob. "So she made sure that her surviving child would be set and safe." Erik nodded, that would make more sense…and how well planned it was! He had to give this…Rebecca some credit, even though she went through a terrible ordeal, she still made sure her remaining children would be safe.

"Mama, Mama, why didn't you tell me?" Lark sobbed to herself, rocking a little. "Why didn't you let us know we had somewhere else to go?" Rachel, with a strong motherly urge, wrapped her arms around the child and rocked with her, smoothing her hair. Richard looked stern, though and leaned forward. "Lark," he said gently, "Your mother did not know she would pass away so soon," the child gasped and gulped wetly and this, clinging to Erik's hand for all dear life. He awkwardly patted her hand, but remained silent and listening. "…but had she lived longer, I am positive Rebecca would have told you about her will." Richard finished steadily. "She loved you very much, Lark and both you and I know this." Lark nodded slowly, fresh new tears that hadn't come to her in months flowed down her soft cheeks. "Yes…yes she…Mama would do…something like that. To protect me…" she leaned heavily on Rachel who seemed glad that she could provide some comfort to the small girl. She looked at Erik who was staring down at the child sadly. "You could use some rest, my honey." Rachel said softly to Lark, squeezing her. "You had a very big day." The child sighed and nodded. Silently, Erik came and picked her up as easily as he would a rag doll. She had lost some pounds despite Christine's attentive care.

She leaned her head on his shoulder as he carried her up the stairs. "The only bad thing, Erik, about being blind," she said suddenly, wrapping her arms around his neck, her face rather frightened, "Is that no one is there with me in the dark. I can't see, and everyone else can. Like I'm in a dark room." Erik said nothing but listened, horrified as they came up to the second floor, Erik's room was in the attic. "It's so…so lonely! I can hear everyone and every thing around me, but I can't see them! I cannot reach out my head easy as you please and touch something." She shuddered and sighed. "Sometimes I feel like a newborn puppy, but more helpless. They don't open their eyes for a long time…" She remained silent until Erik carried her to his room and laid her down on the divan. "I will be right downstairs," he guaranteed, for she still hadn't relinquished her tight, almost desperate hold from around his neck. "If you need me, just yell and I'll be there. Understand?"

He pried off her arms gently, but firmly. "Lark, you understand?" He met his eyes to her foggy ones. With a sigh and one last squeeze of his hand between hers, she nodded slowly, closing her eyes. He patted her hair fondly hummed to her a soft little melody. The same one, in fact, that he sang when she was taken away; only this time she would awaken not in another home but with Erik. She seemed to realize this and before long she was sound asleep, breathing the slow, deep breath of one fully slumbering. With that, Erik swept from the room and went down to the lounge to join the two siblings.

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**Thank you all for reading! One more to go...please review!**

**Erik: Finally...**


	71. The End

**After all these months...nearly a full year...Actually it must have been a year. A story completely and totally finished...I need a moment...T-T**

**_DISCLAIMER: _Throughout this whole story I have never owned Phantom of the Opera. I still don't.**

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**_Part Seventy-one:_**

"You do realize, Erik," Richard said as he stood in front of the fireplace. "That you two will be able to move out into the house provided." Erik nodded, absently staring out the window. Rachel sat almost nervously a way beside him on the sofa, wondering if he always let off that intimidating aura. "It isn't too far from Paris itself, the place, but it is a day journey to the house." Richard continued, rubbing his hands together. He seemed very pleased that Lark would have another home, a real one. "So my sister and I can still visit, if that would be alright with you, monsieur?" He looked anxiously at Erik, giving the impression that he thought he would decline horribly. Erik, however, nodded once. "I would not mind," he said calmly, leaning back. Rachel scooted a little farther away. It wasn't that she did not like Erik, to be truthful, she liked him very much but just sitting next to him was rather frightening. "It is not my job to shoo away Lark's friends," Erik said. "Nor her companions. Visit however much she would like." The sister beamed at him while the brother sighed in relief and his too-wide smile split across his face. "How is the child, by the way?" Rachel asked, looking concerned. "Is she alright?" Erik frowned a little. "She is a tad too light to be completely healthy, but she is well enough." He paused thoughtfully. "Doesn't like to left by herself for too long I have seen. She might have a few problems with being left alone for however amount of time."

Richard heaved a small sigh. "Ah, but she is a strong one, she will recover, I am sure of it." He said this with full confidence. "When would you two like to leave?" Erik glanced around the room and looked at both of their faces in turn. "If possible, I would like to gather all our things from the Opera House and we shall leave as soon as possible. I do not wish for the Count to change is mind about having Lark in his…family." They all remained silent for awhile, the fire crackling merrily behind them casting playful shadows on the walls. "Was it hard to get her back?" Rachel asked, breaking the silence. Erik grinned slightly. "Not at all, mademoiselle. Lark had planned it all, the clever little minx. Beginning to end as she knew they could not keep her while I am still in her life." The woman smiled to herself and Richard looked very proud indeed. "She's going to be something, one day." He prophesied.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

They did not have a lot of leftover time in the Bair mansion for Lark to 'memorize' her way around. Erik, Rachel, or Richard had to be around her constantly to make sure she did not harm herself or run into things. She apologized profusely about being such a hassle but none of them would hear of it and encouraged her that it was their pleasure to help. Well, Erik would have said that but he remained mute and would only prod her in the right direction that waste time explaining he didn't care that she couldn't see. Lark understood. After a few days of packing, the men went off to the Opera House and got permission from Madame Giry to remove all of the furniture out of the house beyond the lake. Madame Giry was surprised to see them, but said nothing else but: "Make it quick, Erik." Ignoring Richard's questioning stares, he and Erik towed across the lake each piece of furniture and, somehow with loads of manual labor, the magnificent organ. Unfortunately they had to take a bit of it apart so it would fit. Erik said he would fix it, but both of them were extra careful with the organ, taking it apart like it was a small baby instead of a large piece of musical equipment. He was especially snappish when Richard dropped a piece, rounding on him growling like an animal, a wild gleam in his eye.

Fortunately for Richard, Madame Giry told them to hurry it up before Erik could strangle him with his own jacket.

Rachel had stayed with Lark at home for the past few days, also had helpfully called a mover for all the furnishings when they came back with the furnishings. A few more days and everything was loaded up and ready to head off. "You both take care now," Rachel said sternly, trying hard not to cry. "I'm going to come and visit soon and I don't want to hear of any mischief from either of you, troublemakers that you are." Erik and Lark exchanged glances and the older turned back to the front of the carriage, shaking his masked head. Lark leaned over slightly, with Erik grabbing her waist to prevent her from falling from the carriage seat, and held out her arms to Rachel. "Take care, dear!" Rachel said tearfully, giving her a huge embrace. "I will! And I will keep Erik out of trouble!" the child promised. Erik glared at her. With a laugh, Rachel stepped back from the carriage. "Ah, I just cannot believe about how much fortune has been our way." She sighed, beaming. "It's just like a happy ending in a story book."

Richard snorted as he came around from hitching up the horses. "Some story," he said dryly. "The characters are all out of sanity." His sister frowned at him but Lark laughed gleefully. "Hear, hear," Erik said glumly. He didn't want to think about the condition the house might be in, especially when it hadn't been lived in for so long. Lark wouldn't mind, she loved cleaning. Erik frowned suddenly. Oh, that was right, it wouldn't matter if it was a pigsty or no; she couldn't see it either way. "…and so you will both be fine!" Richard finished. Erik glanced up, confused. Had he been speaking for a long time? Lark, however, was completely on top of things. "Check." She said firmly, smiling. "We can go now, Erik." She leaned back in her seat and waved a final goodbye to Richard and Rachel, who smiled and said goodbye. "Finally." He grumbled to himself, taking up the reins. With a snap and a final glance back at the Bair's, the carriage rolled away and onto the road. "I guess we'll see them soon." Lark said cheerfully, though her face told otherwise as they winded down the road, picking up another rout that would lead to the Oceanside.

"Of course they will come." Erik said, not looking at her. No point. "Please refrain from going hysterical on me." Lark rolled her eyes and punched him on the arm lightly; she had already made sure she knew where he was. "Ha, ha, ha, Erik. I won't." She folded her arms and pouted. A comfortable silence set in along with a few more miles, and a couple of hours later…. "Erik, can you describe the landscape for me?" Erik sighed, this would take awhile. But he would wait. And they would get to the house and live there, hopefully, quite happily. "Alright, Lark." He agreed, and started to explain.

**END.**

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**My goobers...it's actually all done! I finished! ...THANK YOU ALL FOR READING!!!**

**Erik: ...Thank you, readers, for putting up with this crazed authoress. She's all done for this story.**


	72. Authoress's Note

**I want to thank you all for reading (again!?) and I just wanted to let you all know that after much thinking and a helpful question my brain started chugging and I am currently writing a sequel! **

**Look for _Summer Nightingale_ if you're interested in the continuing of the story of Lark, Erik, Richard, and Rachel!**

**Again, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy the sequel just as much!**


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